


Fresh Meat

by spindas



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunkenness, Everyone Is Gay, Fauns & Satyrs, First Crush, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Original Character(s), Romance, Slow Burn, edward has some internalized homophobia please bear with him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-04-04 19:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spindas/pseuds/spindas
Summary: Edward's brooding, lone-wolf lifestyle is violently interrupted by a boy brought in by the Supernatural Inclusion Program.





	1. "Aren't They Extinct?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The setting is mostly the same as in twilight; but there are a number of "supernatural" creatures (elves, dwarves, halflings, dryads, etc.) that are both known to humanity and have been known since the late nineteenth century. Vampires remain unknown amongst all species except for witches, so the Cullen family are still pretending to be humans.
> 
> The year is 2016. The Cullens have returned to the forks a decade later than in twilight, so some of the other canon characters are still here but 10 years older.

When you were more than a century old, being enrolled in high school was equivalent to _willingly_ tying yourself to a burning stake.

 

Each passing hour was a second gained for the flames that grasped the soles of my feet, charring them into cinders. And by the time the year was over, I felt more charcoal than man. Nothing remained but the hardened outer crust.

 

Such was the fate of all high schoolers in the American education system-- except for my family, for which the sacrilegious burning would repeat _ad finitum_ , as long as we were willing. And really, what else was there? I'd traveled the world, finished college inummerous times, learned over a hundred languages... There was only so many roles ro play.

 

The red hand of the clock sped forward in a constant, timely fashion. I silently begged with my eyes for the other two hands to hurry. Mr. Banner was _just_ opening up to today's chapter.

 

In a sense, it felt almost unfair to these adolescent humans. They hadn't been through high school upwards of twenty times-- yet the labs were just as mundane and repetitive to them. I could hear the internal groans at having to repeat the same experiment from the previous four grades of science classes. ' _Tell me about it_ ,' I thought sulkily.

 

I let my eyes roll to the popcorn crackled ceiling, trying to find patterns hidden amongst the awful remnant of the 70's obsession with texture. It was the only distraction I had. 

 

Twenty-three minutes into Mr. Banner's lecture on DNA, and why his ex-wife legally owed him his dog back, an unfamiliar sound pricked my ears. Down the hallway, I surmised. The rhythm suggested someone walking, but the sound was like the clicking of a pair of heels-- if they were made of bone.

 

I could feel the mundane atmosphere freeze. Whispering began amongst the front two rows of seats.

 

"I think that's gonna be the new student."

 

"You mean the one that's --?"

 

"Dude _shut up_ , you're not supposed to--"

 

"Aren't they supposed to be, like, extinct?" 

 

"Or endangered, at least."

 

I flickered through the conversations, same as the ones being voiced mentally, save for Mr. Banner. The man was unusually taut, his frown lines far deeper than usual.

 

_'Jesus Christ, just when I thought my week couldn't get any worse. What was the goddamn district thinking, sending him over to this school?'_

 

It seemed his hostile sentiment was not alone in the room. James Burke and Branson Keaton both leaned back in their chairs, legs out in the aisle, preparing to trip the newcomer. Brandon had tried the same with me in freshman year-- he ended up with a broken ankle.

 

The new student was at the door now. The room collectively held their breath. I sighed. Leave it up to a class of high schoolers to make out a newcomer in the boondocks to be as daunting as a bomb threat.

 

The handle turned. When the new student entered, there was one, single, unanimous thought shared by everyone-- even me.

 

 _'_ _He's **huge** '._

 

The boy, if you could call him that, had to duck under the doorway just to make it into the room. Not the kind of slight duck that Emmett, with his six-foot-three frame, had to do for the six-foot door. This boy had to literally fold himself into the opening. Standing before us, his head nearly reached the low popcorn ceiling of the room. Impossibly large. He must have been over seven feet tall.

 

Eighteen children blanched, and made three particular observations regarding this absolute monolith of a man.

 

First, two ram horns protruded from the sides of his head, adding a good three inches to his already abnormal height. They were thick, intimidating, and a stark bone white.

 

Second, he wasn't just tall. He'd layered himself under a large varsity jacket, but even underneath that jacket, one could see was incredibly brawny. As Emmett would say, in less than polite tones, the boy was built like a _brick shithouse_. He looked like the idea of a man had been magnified. A giant.

 

It was the last detail that was the most important, as everyone in the room scanned him from the top down. It wasn't until he stood in the center aisle, his whole body clear from the disruption of tables, that I saw it myself. The room reeled. 

 

Stemming out from underneath an unassuming pair of jeans were two hooven, sheep-like legs, lined with fur the same dark brown color as his hair.

 

A small part of my mind chuckled. I had been close. Heels made of keratin, not bone. Bemusement mingled with the shock I felt, and though I'd admonished the other students in class for their reactions, it was impossible not to feel some tinge of surprise of a reveal of this magnitude. 

 

Nobody said it out loud, but a single word echoed through the thoughts of everyone present: " _Demon_." They knew we weren't supposed to call them that; the Supernatural Acceptance Pep Rally last week had drilled that point into our skulls. And yet, in an obvious turn of human reactance, the word all but exploded in every mind in the room, flashing like a neon sign above every head.

 

The young satyr stared back out at the class, his face hard and overcomposed. A bead of sweat broke out above his brow. I felt a strong urge to somehow shield him from the dark comments that lurked in the minds of this room, though I knew I wouldn’t cover much. It must've been pity-- his eyes were watery, his posture hunched onwards, as if bracing for an attack.

 

"Mr. Wyrming, take a seat. You're disrupting my class."

 

Mr. Banner's voice was a gunshot in the quiet room. The frozen atmosphere shattered into fine crystals of anxiety. Everyone breathed again, but they were uneven breaths. Girls shoved their bags under their desks and out of the aisle, while boys dove sideways to make an exaggerated amount of room for their new "friend". Brandon Keanes smartly tucked his foot back under his seat.

 

James Burke was a bit more determined. Or stupid.

 

The satyr boy may have looked like a bull in a china shop, but he moved with surprising precision. He deftly avoided James's intrusive leg, even when James swept it across the floor to catch the boy by the ankle. He maneuvered towards the only open seat he saw, and perhaps the best one to avoid blocking anyone's view with his size. The middle column, last row. 

 

Next to me.

 

The chair scraped the linoleum, making some students flinch. I glanced at the boy's face from the corner of my eye. His smooth russet skin had flushed around his cheeks and ears. Yet his mouth remained a hard line.

 

I moved my books to my side of the table to give him some room, and let the flow of thoughts more thoroughly permeate the atmosphere, so I could pick out his. He'd surely be the most worried, frantic voice in the room, and the most unfamiliar. Thoughts tended to echo the sounds of the individual's voice, though slightly accented, and I'd grown accustomed to the voices of the thoughts in the room.

 

As I skimmed through the voices, as if eavesdropping in a restaurant, I came up short. Once. Twice. No frantic worrying of trying to fit in. All thoughts seemed to be directed at him, but no single thought directed outwards.

 

I'd encountered thoughts that were harder to get a read on before, almost like a muffled voice, but never one I couldn't hear at all. Part of me briefly wondered if it was a species trait. It seemed unlikely, considering the thoughts of centaurs and dryads were as clear as day to me. I felt almost panicked from the obsoletion.

 

It was my job, of sorts, to keep a watchful eye on the minds of others, so that I could be wary of human detection. Vampires didn't have the luxury of stepping into the spotlight, as so many other creatures had done. The knowledge that such monstrous beings walked in man's midst, completely undetectable, would spark a paranoia that would consume our family's peaceful existence - at the Volturi's hands if not the mob's. 

 

His small, polite wave seemed to denote friendliness, not fear. His hard face broke into a nervous smile, eyebrows raised. I'd have to go by his body language to determine his suspicions. And so far, he didn't seem to harbor any. All seemed well, for my family at least. But I could only guess.

 

For the remainder of the lecture, I tried to pay him no heed; give him a rest from all the stares he would have to face throughout the day. And, unlike the herd of humans he'd have to deal with for the rest of the year, his bovid features didn't rattle me. I was, after all, a one-hundred-seventeen year old immortal, demonic creature. It'd be a bit hypocritical if I found the boy horrific just for being tall and having the legs of a goat.

 

It was doubtful a boy of his age had _killed_ anyone. The same could not be said about me, nor any of my siblings. And for that, his meager difference in appearance was almost envious. This terrified fawn harbored no bloodlust.

 

The one thing I could not ignore about the satyr was the warmth he radiated. He was a humanoid space heater. Perhaps it was alien to me because I'd gone so long without having a human desk partner, but it wasn't unpleasant. A distant, foggy memory resurfaced in my mind; the comfort of a thick woolen blanket on a cold winters day.

 

Hm. Maybe I'd even come to enjoy his company.

 

I was lukewarm by the time the lab started. A dilapidated set of beakers rested on every table, along with two strawberries, salt, dish-soap, a mesh screen, and some tweezers.

 

A simple DNA extraction lab, snatched from an online “8 Crazy Food Science Experiments You Can Do in Your Kitchen” _Buzzfeed_ article by Mr. Banner this morning. I had to turn my head into my collar to smile.

 

Instinctively, I reached for the beaker, but so had he. His brown hand skimmed my pallid one for a mere second. My skin all but imploded from the sensation-- he was a live wire of heat. His hand felt at least one hundred degrees. Were all satyr that warm?

 

At the same time, I gasped, pulling in a quick breath. I pulled in a lungful of the boy’s scent; warm, but not particularly appetizing. It was sweet and strangely aromatic. Cinnamon and brown sugar and evergreen... Rich flavors that seemed to cool the fire in my throat. Intrigued, and more than a little dazed, I pulled in another breath. Deeper. Savoring.

 

If anything, it was a blessing not to have to face the regular scorch that the scent of humans sent down my throat. Any relief from the unending punishment for this immortal, vampiric life was a welcome one. I snuck a quick glance to gauge his reaction to my unnaturally cold skin.

 

His face was mildly shocked, but mostly embarassed.

 

“O-Oh I'm sorry, I, uh!” He sank back in his chair, earning a weighted groan from the seat. “I, um. Don't know what to do. For the lab, I mean.” His face flushed into a solid ochre. “Could you please show me, maybe?”

 

His voice was low, but surprisingly immature and earnest. Sweet, even. It cracked in places, leaving me surprised. Puberty hadn't quite ended for him. Was he _still_ growing?

 

There was that pang of pity again. The story of this boy's sheltered, homeschooled upbringing had immediately spread like wildfire throughout the school. His older, adoptive sister had informed Rachel Delve, who informed Katherine Jacobs, and so on. There were no secrets here in Forks-- everyone had heard of Aurora Wyrming’s satyr brother, though few had met him.

 

Humans were predictable in their manic obsession over new things, as well as their raw fear over things too novel to understand. An elf or nymph would have stirred fascination, but a _satyr_? The minds of James Burke, Brandon Keanes, and Jason Bealls already echoed layers of venom. There was no shortage of humans like them in the world. I could only imagine the virulent despise my family would face if immortals were on the list of "beings" registered in human society.

 

The satyr rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, watching as I set up the isopropyl alcohol in the beakers. I reached over for a strawberry, and my hand met the cool black tabletop. 

 

I looked up to see the boy taking a chunk of the strawberry between his teeth and chewing it. When he caught my gaze, he offered the other strawberry to me with a shy smile.

 

I was stupefied. He stared at me, unaware; my eyes widened a little. I'd done this lab more than a dozen times, and never had a human partner who’d immediately _eaten_ the materials.

 

“I… Suppose we can complete the lab with one strawberry, then.” I said, clearing my throat.

 

 His face was aflame instantly, his long ears pressed backwards like a frightened mare.

 

“Oh, were we supposed to use these? Oh my God, I mean, uh-- I'm so sorry, I thought these were like, a snack. Or somethi-- I dunno what I thought. I'm **so** sorry, I ju--”

 

I held up a hand, stopping him before he could rattle on anymore. If his heart hammered any harder in his chest, it would've burst.

 

“It's fine, don't worry about it. We can just use the other strawberry.” I pretened to cough at the end to hide my laughter.

 

His attentive gaze burned holes into my hands as I set up the experiment. Every small movement earned a scribble of notation in his dogeared spiral notebook. I peered over; his handwriting was surprisingly neat. He’d probably learned note taking from his sister, the current standing valedictorian. It was charming that, even though he was inexperienced with academia, he was definitely determined to learn. I smiled at him encouragingly, and he ducked his head, hiding a small smile of his own.

 

I heard the snark in Mr. Banner’s thoughts as he approached. A wry smile had spread across his face.

 

“Wouldn’t it be better, Edward, if Nicolae could learn the experiment himself?”

 

I looked up at him, feigning innocence.

 

“We were only given one strawberry, Mr. Banner-- Also, Nicolae hasn’t learned the background directions of this lab, so I was guiding him through it.” I gestured to the boy’s detailed notes.

 

Ben Banner squinted at the boy’s notes, then nodded slowly, turning away to check on James Burke and his soap-salt ridden disaster. _‘Could’ve sworn I had enough berries this morning… Need to stop drinking so much on Sundays,’_ he thought sulkily.

 

“Thanks for covering for me, man.” The boy's beaming smile echoed his gratitude. It was so full of hope and good humor that I couldn't help but marvel. And, of course, return the smile. Just a small one, the corner of my lip pulled up in a knowing smirk.

 

A grand symphony of zippers erupted, signaling the near-end of class. Mr. Banner quickly flung papers out to every desk for each group to summarize the experiment. I reached out to grab it, but briskly avoided the boy’s hand as he took the paper instead. He flashed me an apologetic smile.

 

“Sorry, I just feel like, since you did the whole thing, I could just, y’know, fill out the sheet, right? Iss'a least I could do.” His chuckle was deep he filled out the summary in font-like handwriting. His voice wasn't inherently deep, but his laugh was baritone. My chest shook with it.

 

I absent-mindedly glanced at the clock; one minute left till the bell. One minute left until the hallways poured with humans, five vampires, and now one single, giant satyr. Emotions in the room were as tense as piano-wire. It was ridiculously trivial, their unanimous anxiety to leave and be the first to spread the word.

 

The lab sheet was suddenly slid under my hand. He’d filled out the summary, and all that was left was to add my name next to his. I wrote it quickly, then passed the paper upward.

 

“So, what’s your name? I’m Nicolae. Nicolae Wyrming.”

 

A hand, large and open, invaded the corner of my vision. I whirled to face him. His wide grin revealed large, pointed teeth, larger than any humanoid creature had a right to have, and for a second I had to fight the instinctive urge to return a snarl. I hadn't known satyrs to have a jaw that could put a piranha to shame. Perhaps the moniker of demon wasn't that far off.

 

He was just being friendly, I chided myself. Overtly so, more than any other human or humanoid had showed my kind, but friendly nevertheless. Maybe it was his species, or his size, or his naïveté-- he didn’t know to be afraid, yet. He’d instinctively feel it soon, through either me or my siblings. A hard stare, a too-wide smile, a flash of teeth; these were the precursors to the inevitable primal fear all creatures, big and small, held for us. For now, though, the amiable aura he radiated was a welcome, if not startling, change.

 

A second had barely passed. I ignored his hand; it was for the best. Warm as he was, I was only lukewarm now, not bodily warm.

 

Instead, I tried a smile. It felt crooked.

 

“Edward Cullen. It's been nice to meeting you, Nicolae. Welcome to Forks.” I stood then, slinging my bag over one shoulder. He mirrored me, and it was only standing next to him that I could truly gauge his height. He was enormous. His messenger bag looked like a purse on his arm. My eyes came only up to his bulky chest.

 

“Cool, cool, that's dope. Hope I see you ‘round, Edward!” He remarked. His voice crackled at the end, from youth or nervousness, I couldn't tell.

 

With that, the bell rang shrill, drowning out the many conversations buzzing through the air.

 

***

 

 


	2. Words That Thaw the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they share a music class together, and edward makes a, dare i say it, f r i e n d???

You'd have thought the world was ending. Every thought, every inclination, every heart screamed with excitement as classes siphoned into the hallways. The handle had been turned too taut on the faucet, and now every emotion poured loose.

 

Down the hallway, I could hear Jasper's internal surprise, could see his body freeze through Alice's curious eyes.

 

‘ _What?_ ’ she begged him with her eyes, ‘ _What happened?_ '

 

Jasper stared at her with an unsettled look on his face, but smoothed her furrowed eyebrows with his thumb. He whipped his head to peer down the hallway, and just as quickly found his answer.

 

The usual hum of the hallways had died down to a nervous whisper, a frenzied buzz of rumor and questions.

 

“Holy shit, he's a fuckin’ giant.”

 

“I heard he's already friends with Cullen.”

 

“Freaks attract freaks, I guess.”

 

“Dude, he ate the science lab materials today, like a fucking goat.”

 

The boy headed to a class on the opposite side of the hallway from Biology, whilst I headed over to Theory of Knowledge. The glimpse I had of him, with my own eyes, was him trotting down the wide path that was cleared out for him. Like a pariah heading to a guillotine. I shook my head.

 

The hour was at least made somewhat entertaining for this class, as the teacher loaded the first Matrix movie into the DVD player. It was almost too easy to let myself be sedated by the cheesy acting and poorly-aged special effects. The bell rang right before Keanu Reeves dodged a barrage of bullets in slow motion. 

 

I felt disembodied as I made my way to the cafeteria. Whenever something even vaguely new happened in one of the high schools I had been through, I'd always had to block out my “extra hearing” just to be ease myself into reality. Even mere talent shows threw the whole system into disarray. Today's torrent of voices required dissociation just to have room to breathe. It felt like I was just a loose consciousness, ghosting through the hallways, through the open doors, and towards my family's designated lunch table. Just a spirit dragging behind a body by a few yards. I found myself seated, with a tray of “food” in front of me. Only vaguely did I remember fetching it.

 

I saw myself reflected in Emmett's eyes; I was accidentally giving him the old thousand-yard stare. It was an accidental form of habit at this point. We both chuckled, and I turned my head so I didn't keep accidentally staring him down.

 

As I turned, I met the boy's gaze.

 

 _Green_. My throat caught at the sight. I wondered how I hadn't noticed before. His eyes were a shocking grass green, too saturated to be true. They wrinkled at the corners from his grin. A pearl white grin that hit me like an arrow-- I felt my back go straight from the shock. His whole posture shifted. It took me a split second to realize he was making his way to our table.

 

‘ _No,_ ’ I thought, my face blank with surprise.

 

He was two tables away now.

 

Right now the whole school was reeling over his arrival. For him to sit at our table, to associate with our family, would only turn eyes onto us too. While our family welcomed humanity, prolonged negative attention was a threat we took all too seriously. And right here, right now, this boy was a walking spectacle.

 

‘ _Turn around, leave._ ’ I thought at him. I felt my face go hard.

 

By the grace of God, a slender brown arm reached out and slung around his elbow.

 

Aurora Wyrming’ five-foot tall body was dwarfed by her younger brother, yet her hold brought him to an immediate halt. He spun and beamed at her, his face flushed again-- with nervousness? Excitement?

 

“Wooly, where’re you goin’? You're not gonna sit with your own sister?” She whined with mock-offense. He rolled his eyes, still smiling. Holding him by the elbow, she proceeded to drag him to a loaded table towards the center of the cafeteria, where the popular upperclassmen of the school gathered.

 

’ _My God,_ ’ Emmett thought, ‘ _That’s the new kid? That even a kid?_ ’

 

Emmett’s mind, unlike most, was unobscured by frivolities. His intentions were straightforward, emotions bare; I could hear the excitement and surprise in his head at the newcomer. A potential competitor. I kicked his shin under the table.

 

“Don’t even think about it, Em, you’d kill him in seconds.”

 

He rolled his eyes, but conceded. Rosalie glanced at Emmett, then decided to rejoin the world from her personal delusions of vanity.

 

‘ _That’s the satyr boy?_ ’ She thought, cocking her head slightly to the side. ‘ _I've never seen one before._ ’ Her evaluation of him was all of two seconds, and then she was suddenly staring at Emmett with a coy smile and her heart in her eyes.

 

“A little spar couldn’t hurt, would it?” She peered up at him through her eyelashes, and he bit back a growl. Images of Emmett wrestling the satyr to the ground, muscles bulging, hair in disarray, flashed across her mind. Her arm wound around his, and she pulled him closer to her, enough to rest her head on his chest.

 

I’d been wise not to try eating today. Leave it to Rosalie to make me nauseous from nothing.

 

Jasper was tense from the influx of stress in the cafeteria-- it appeared that half the students were unwelcome of Nicolae’s presence, and the other half fretted over what exactly to say. No one part of the room felt truly calm. Unlike my mind-reading abilities, his empath gift wasn’t something he could easily tune out.

The thoughts of people was like a heavy babble in a room that, if I focused enough on my own internal processes, I could easily ignore. Listening in on them was like eavesdropping on a trivial conversation.

 

But through Jasper’s unstable thoughts, I could understand his gift better; it wasn’t the babble of a brook, but the force of the current that he had to face. Like being immersed in a constant ebb and flow of waves of emotion-- he could not ignore the force of the sea while he drowned in it. His single-minded attachment to Alice was a buoy that kept him afloat amidst the sea of feelings, desires, and instinct. If it wasn’t so dependent, it’d strike me as romantic.

 

He buried his head in the crook of Alice’s shoulder, and once again I felt uncomfortable. Though their affection wasn’t as flashy, its electric intimacy made me feel like I was invading _their_ personal space.

 

Tuning out the world around me, I familiarized myself with the cracks in the ceiling. None of this was any of our business-- the satyr child had relocated himself amongst other children, just as simple-minded as he was. It was almost amusing how humans, especially teenagers, blew things out of proportion. The appearance of a new student, of a strange new species, would have this school salivating for weeks. Even though it was a banal event, only notable because of his grand height and "strange" legs, and had already occurred across the country for years. It was beyond me to be interested for more than a few minutes.

 

And yet.

 

Perhaps it was an excuse to look away from the two couples’ intimacy at the table. Perhaps it was because, inevitably, watching humans stumble around the social contract and try not to engage in meta stereotyping was more amusing than staring at lines on a wall. Or, perhaps, it was because he said my name.

 

“With Edward, from my Bio class.” He answered in response to his sister's question. She'd asked him where he was planning to sit before he saw her. Hearing my name, not often spoken anymore, or even thought, was like a pinprick in my ear. I had to turn. It was loose remnant of the norms that had been beaten into me as a human.

 

I saw her jaw drop, and stifled a laugh. The expressions of the table all donned a similar affect of surprise.

 

“Edward? Cullen? The pale kid? Reddish hair?” Taylor Nguyen leaned in, eyebrows raised.

 

“Why would you sit next to **him**?” Samantha Owens accused. 

 

From the corner of my eye, I could see the boy smile, eyes narrowed slightly. I couldn’t place the array of emotions. I felt a twinge of curiosity in the pit of my stomach. It went against all I knew and believed to feel even a _slight_ bit intrigued by this child; after all, no matter the species, it seemed all humanoid minds were the same. He, just like every other human in the room, just like every other outsider placed in a group, just wanted to fit into the sheeplike mentality of the majority. Fit in, or perish. That was the human world. It was the world of all social animals, in which one lone weakling separated from the herd would die a sooner death than his unintelligent-but-united brethren. He’d learn, soon enough, that my family hadn’t obeyed that rule, and were the pariahs of this school. And just like the sheep his legs and horns mirrored, he'd hurry back to the flock.

 

“Why not?” He prompted.

 

Erica Takashi leaned forward, eyes glistening with excitement. Her intentions were bittersweet-- by acting friendly, she wanted to be seen “progressive” amongst her peers. Hoping it would get her boosted to Prom Queen status-- the belle who dared to be kind to the beast. Pathetic.

 

“The Cullens never talk to _anyone_. Especially Edward.” She flipped a lock of black hair over her shoulder. “They think they’re above everyone else because their father’s a surgeon, and they’re apparently _super_ rich. Moved down here from Alaska.”

 

“Stupid rich,” Samantha Owens corrected.

 

I cracked a wry smile. It wasn’t rare for our exclusion to be fueled by envy. Nor was it unusual for our prey to find us attractive, even spitefully so. I’d had to fend of Samantha’s uncomfortable romantic advances throughout all of Freshman year, and in our second year she’d developed a case of sour grapes. Though she’d never understand it, it was better for her this way. Getting too close to anyone was a danger-- for both parties.

 

“They're just… not very friendly.” Aurora Wyrming clasped her dainty hand around her brother's wide shoulder. Her other hand played with one of her braids. She turned slightly, and missed meeting my gaze by a millisecond. I turned my attention to the peeling paint on the walls. But still, somewhat boredly now, I listened.

 

“Nah, I think Edward seems nice. Kinda cold-lookin', you're right... But he didn't even mind when I ate this berry in our science class lab. Like, he just rolled with it.”

 

As impetuous as I knew it was, I felt a strangely warm feeling bubble up within me, as he defended my “honor” to these complete strangers. Strangers he ought to be trying to impress, or at least find common ground with.

 

“Oh,” Samantha started to backtrack, “I just meant, like, they seem really above it all sometimes. It's kinda pretentious."

 

"Well, he didn't seem like that to me." His voice was hard; stubborn, almost.

 

The curiosity flared. What had made him sound so... I struggled for an adjective. Angry? Intense?

 

‘ _There he goes again,_ ’ Aurora thought, nostalgia tinting her thoughts with a lilting tone. ‘ _Always quick to defend the underdog._ ’

 

There was a degree of protectiveness in her inner voice, and I realized that she had made him sit with the popular crowd as a form of protection, rather than throwing him to the wolves. By making it clear that this wasn't just _any_ satyr, but her own brother, she offered him a fighting chance to make connections without people seeing him as a threat. It was a hopeful tactic.

 

His defense rendered the table silent. Atticus Barlow, a gangly boy with an obnoxious sense of humor, broke the ice.

 

“Wait, you ate the strawberry in today's Bio lab? You're fuckin’ with me.”

 

“Well I mean, I didn't know what the lab even w-was.” Nicolae shrugged, hunching in on himself again. “Wasn't even that good. Tasted like a depressed jolly rancher.”

 

Atticus stared at him for all of half a second, then chuckled at Nicolae's remark. At this Nicolae's eyes lit up, and he slowly unfurled himself. The humor had appeared to rebuff his confidence.

 

And so it went. The banter of the group was stilted, but Nicolae kept doling out jokes, and everyone in the group felt both surprise and relief at the giant’'s extraversion. It made it easier to cope with his differences; or, rather, ignore them, as was a humans preferred “progressive” method of dealing with those they didn't understand . Colorblindness. The oh-so favored “I don’t see race” type of thinking that was covert in it's ignorance. Maybe, just _maybe_ , if they looked hard enough at his interests and hobbies, they could pretend to see a person rather than the monster they'd already formed in their head.

 

The tedium of the conversation, which now leaned on a new Marvel movie being released tomorrow, bored me. I had one last look of Nicolae through the eyes of his sister. My cheeks tightened; I almost smiled. He looked just as bored with the conversation as I was.

 

‘ _Better get used to it,_ ’ I thought.

 

Approximately half a minute before the bell rung, Alice rose up and skipped over to the disposal unit, carrying her tray lightly in one hand. Jasper shadowed a few feet behind her. He moved mechanically, but internally flinched with thirst whenever a human drew too close for comfort. Which was, as it turned out, far too often for Jasper. The flare of his thirst piqued mine, which would've been an annoyance if it wasn't so common at this point.

 

I grabbed my bag and my tray, heading off to the next mental tedium I'd have to endure: AP U.S. History. Never-mind that I'd already _lived_  through a solid portion of it, or that my father was older than the country itself. It wasn't as if we could exactly inform the school of that little factoid. At that point, Jasper and I might as well teach the classes.

 

Emmett slung his arm around Rosalie's waist, her head resting on his shoulder. The power couple of the school made their way, with almost haughty grace, to their classes; classes more advanced than Alice's and my Junior level.

 

Alice all but danced to my side. Jasper flanked her right as we exited the cafeteria.

 

That familiar, blank look, and I felt a recurrence of the vision, one she'd seen facets of earlier, but now consolidated. I felt myself being swept off with it, forced into a secondhand trance state.

 

A tall figure standing on our porch, making his way up the steps carefully. A collection of books were cradled in his arms, but all the fine details were blurry. Long brown hair, slick with rain, framed a vague russet face so high up that Alice would have to crane her neck to see it. A flash of white amongst the gray skies. Shadows. Then the vision ended, just as quickly as it'd come.

 

Being removed from a vision was waking up from a dream. I blinked at Alice, who was already smiling at Jasper. Her eyes danced with curiosity. 

 

“I think--I’m not sure why, but I _think_  we're gonna be getting a visit from the new kid tomorrow.”

 

 

U.S. history couldn't have moved at a slower pace. Hearing events you'd already lived through, grotesquely whitewashed and poorly summarized, had to be at least one of the layers of Hell.

 

My last class of the day was an elective, and perhaps the only class I'd felt any degree of excitement for. Orchestra. Band class wasn't exactly my tea, and the class was surprisingly lax in the instruments that could be considered “orchestral”. The Quillayute Valley District didn’t grade “advanced” extracurriculars on anything beyond attendance. It was an excuse for a free-study period for seniors, if anything; only five of the students, myself included, knew how to even play an instrument.

 

I'd turned the last corner of the hallway, nearing the exit towards the Portables, into a teal room covered with an eclectic collection of posters. Everything from flyers, band posters, music scales, and instrument charts tried desperately to cover the chipped blue paint and the black mold around the AC unit. The single-seat desks had been haphazardly arranged into a semi-circle, and a handful of kids sat on the tops, talking amongst themselves. The teacher, Mr. Silva, sat at the front, tiredly scrolling through something on his phone.

 

I took a seat by the desk towards the window, the soft gray light filtering in. The closest I could get to sunbathing in a public setting. I closed my eyes and rested my head on my hands. Sleep would be a luxury that only God himself could grant upon me. Though I wasn't tired in the traditional sense; my bones and muscles would never feel weary, my eyes never heavy. It was an introspective tiredness-- the mundane of roleplaying human adolescence was more spiritually exhausting than the act itself.

 

Only I heard the hard steps on the outside. The door opened with a creak, and the hooven steps turned into muffled taps on the wooden floor of the music room.

 

The room paused briefly, as the group peered over to see who'd entered.

 

“Uh, is this,” Nicolae stared hard at the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand, “’ _11031 Intro to Orchestra_ ’?”

 

The teacher looked up from his phone, got a good look at Nicolae, and smiled. He adjusted his oversized glasses. ‘ _Yes, the new student!_ ’ he thought eagerly.

 

“Yes, this is, welcome! Yes, you must be Nicolae Wyrming.” Mr. Silva dragged his tattered leather rolling chair to the center of the room. “Take a seat, any seat you like-- we don't have assigned seats here.”

 

As fate would have it, he sat next to me. I was probably the most familiar face in the room-- and the only one he'd spoken to so far. He gave me a small, shy wave. The green in his eyes appeared even brighter now-- they somehow glowed in the dim light. Two eager driftwood embers. The vivid chartreuse of light filtering through leaves. Feeling slightly disembodied, I gave him a nod of acknowledgement. It felt strange, wrong, somehow, to turn away from his gaze. But I couldn't just stare at his oddly-colored eyes the whole class time.

 

In my peripheral, I saw him turn away and blink rapidly, and I briefly wondered if _my_ gaze felt the same to him. Interesting that he'd held it as long as he did. Most humans turned away after a moments glance, immediately shocked by our amber eyes.

 

Mr. Gene Silva was a relatively kind man, more passionate about education than most teachers I'd encountered. He was far less alarmed about Nicolae's race than he was excited about having a new student added to his small class roster.

 

“So guys, sign the roll sheet up front and then get your gear. Today we’ll be perfecting Petite Suite.” He threw his hands into the air for emphasis. “Wyrming, write what instrument you’re interested in next to your name on the sign-in sheet. I’m warning you, though-- no, pan flutes, ha!”

 

Nicolae rubbed the back of his neck, opened his mouth, then decided against saying whatever he was going to say and signed in.

 

I glanced at the instrument he’d chosen-- Guitar. Hm. Not to follow stereotypes, but I’d expected some sort of wind instrument.

 

Apparently Mr. Silva had followed a similar vein of thought.

 

‘ _Guitar, huh? There's no guitar section in orchestra, but I guess we can make an exception, like with Maggie… I’ll have to pair him with Leah and Edward to get him caught up…_ ’

 

We were put into groups based on sections, with the strings group focused in the corner by the piano. Leah Rigdon removed her violin from it’s casings, tuned it, and then flipped through the music sheets to find this week’s Debussy piece. Gene Silva had taste, I would grant him that. 

 

I ran my hands over the piano keys, severely yellowed with age and neglect. The music sheet set on the piano was another prop; I’d incorporated the song to memory. Nicolae joined our small group after a few minutes, having retrieved a rental guitar from the back locker. Leah helped him set up a music stand, and showed him the right page.

 

I started the medley on the piano, cuing in Leah by the fourth count. There was a lag-- Nicolae hadn’t joined in. Leah turned to him, motioning him to start with her eyes. I continued, the song pouring from my hands onto the keys freely, but I diverted my attention to him as I played via muscle memory. He was staring at the sheet blankly. He studied the guitar closely, clearly perturbed.

 

“Are you okay? You should’ve come in by now. Do you need help?” Leah asked, leaning towards him.

 

“It, uh,” Nicolae gulped, lowering his instrument, “It's missing three of the strings.” 

 

I peered over, getting a better look at the instrument. The missing strings seemed to be the least of his problems-- the tuning pegs dangled loose, the body was covered in scratches, and the bridge was sliding off. Disgust rolled over me-- how anybody could've treated an instrument with such disdain was beyond me.

 

“Oh,” Leah whispered, “How are you gonna practice, then?”

 

“I have my own guitar at home I could bring, but I guess I can't play today.” He shrugged, putting the guitar back in it's dilapidated case. “I'll go tell the teach that the guitars busted, I guess.”

 

When he rejoined us, after a rather tearful Mr. Silva looked at the remains of his guitar, he'd been rendered instrument-less.

 

“It’s alright, you can just take your time to get acquainted with the piece.” I said, lowering my voice to a softer tone that was calming to humans. His face looked darker for a second-- a blush had spread across his cheeks. The woodsy, spice-ridden scent whirled in the air around me. I breathed it in, gladly accepting it over the burn of Leah’s scent.

 

He nodded vigorously, and I restarted Petite Suite from the beginning.

 

The last period eventually melted into a free-for-all of music practice. Leah was practicing the scales of the violin with vibrato, struggling with the last few series of notes. Nicolae scribbled what the violin notes would correspond to on a guitar on a sheet of scrap paper.

 

I’d moved onto constructing my own piece, jumping off of Petite Suite and into more somber tones. They matched the dim, yet almost eerie lighting of the room. The Autumn air was rich, crisp, and full of morose inspiration. I suppose it was a most fitting atmosphere for a monster such as myself.

 

A shadow peered over my shoulder, but my hands continued over the keys without a hitch.

 

“Y-you’re amazing.”

 

I turned to see two chartreuse eyes shining with wonder. Of their own accord, the corners of my mouth tilted upward into a smile at his compliment.

 

“Thank you, though it’s really nothing.” I let the melody drift to higher notes, now. “I’ve played piano most of my life.” Well, un-life, if I were to be honest.

 

“My big sis used to play piano-- I’d play with her. My guitar, I mean. I can’t, uh, piano.” He held up a hand, wiggling his digits. “I think my fingers are too fat to hit the keys.”

 

At that, I had to chuckle. His eyes crinkled. Upon closer inspection, I noticed they were framed by thick, black eyelashes that somehow exaggerated their color. Not entirely unusual for a man, but still fairly striking.

 

“No, I’m serious, look.” He leaned down to place his hand over one of the keys, just barely touching it. It took up the whole key and then some, spilling over to a second. Impressive. I lifted an eyebrow.

 

“You seem more built for football than guitar.”

 

“Nah, I’m not big on football. And I suck at baseball. I just, well. I really love the guitar. I think love all instruments, actually.” He paused, pulling his chair closer to the piano bench. “Sorry, I felt weird kinda just looming over you.”

 

I laughed. “It’s fine, I didn’t even notice you were.”

 

Nicolae giggled. It was a deep noise, but jovial. He didn’t continue talking, but instead stared at my hands as they danced across the keys, his face thoughtful again. Whilst I respected the silence, the absence of his voice, left me feeling strange. Empty. I wanted to keep him talking-- He was amusing, at least.

 

“How long have you played guitar?”

 

“As long as I can remember. M’dad says I picked up his ukulele as a baby and would basically slap the strings for hours. Drove him crazy, so he got me a kiddie guitar from Toys R Us. How ‘bout you? When'd you start playing the piano?” 

 

“When I was younger, around seven, I believe, my mother had enrolled me in piano lessons. She believed I had an affinity for it.” One of the few, semi-solid memories I had of my human life-- practicing piano on a weekend, while my mother sat on the bench alongside me. It was murky around the edges, but the unmistakable warmth of the moment was there. It was something I tried, rather hard, not to forget.

 

“Well she was right, dude, I’ve never heard someone play like you do. Like, that’s just... I don’t even know what to say. Wow. Is it all original?”

 

“I usually compose as I go-- though it’s more like jazz; I never play it quite the same, the mood always changes.” 

 

“It sounds so slow and sad, though. Are you feeling okay?”

 

His head was cocked to the side, eyebrows furrowed, lips pulled down. The expression was so unfamiliar, especially in its direction towards _me_ , that it took a solid second for me to understand it. The word felt strange on my tongue and in my mind. Worry. He was worried about me.

 

I’d said too much. At the same time, a monstrous part of my brain threatened mutiny, and prompted me to say more. I tightened my lips.

 

“O-Oh, I didn’t mean to call you out or anything. I mean, cause I, uh, tend to play slower when I’m kinda down, and stuff.”

 

I shook my head. “It's alright, really. I hadn't thought about it like that. I guess the weather's got me feeling gray too.” I smiled wryly, glancing at the window. Perpetually overcast. Heavy fog obscured any details, turning the world into a medley of neutral tones. 

 

Nicolae nodded understandingly. 

 

"Yeah, I get like that too, sometimes. During the winter. But I actually really love Fall," he gestured toward the window with a broad sweep of his arm, "the red and orange and green of the trees, and the fog is all... It's just so mysterious and cool." 

 

"Hm, I suppose it is." The layer of red and orange seemed antagonistically blood-colored, but it was beautiful, in a way, now that he mentioned it. "It fits in with the mood of the season, Halloween and such." 

 

"Yeah!" Nicolae nodded enthusiastically, his brown wavy hair bobbing, a few loose strands caught on his ram-like horns. "Do you like halloween?" 

 

A safe topic, but my answer, no, surprised him. We discussed at length the pros, the cons, the history, and the downfalls of the holiday. He liked it  _for_ its commercialism, and despite the whitewashing, he adored the ctesy TV spinoffs, the idealization of small town trick-or-treating. It was the one holiday he'd been allowed to publicly celebrate-- covering his legs and using his horns as a costume gimmick, he could make it door-to-door without attracting attention. When he described his Rockwell-esque Americana painting of halloween, I could see it.

I argued that it was a bastardization of the original Irish tradition, watered down and gimmicked by major companies such as Walmart, and now losing traction in the culture because of its own repackaging. We went back and forth, never quite convincing the other, but just seeing him explain his point of view was interesting enough to keep me going.

As we talked about favorite traditional Halloween monsters, his being The Thing from the Black Lagoon (interestingly enough) and mine being Dr. Frankenstein's monster, I realized that I had never talked quite so _much_ to any one student at the school. In perhaps any school I'd attended, save for study groups. Every-time I thought the conversation had finished, he'd bring up a new topic, a new thing to add; and rather than find it annoying, or exhaustive, I was suddenly eager to tell him what I had to say. And, eventually, I was eager for his opinion too. Communication that I'd held with immortals before, but never before with a human. Or, humanoid, I supposed. Without a mental voice cluing me into everything he was going to say, his answers were unpredictable. Every-time I made an assumption, he'd break it. He liked the creature from the Black Lagoon, but his favorite horror movie was the recent "It follows", a far more subtle film; one which I also enjoyed. Piano forgotten, I was turned entirely to face him now. He leaned in towards me, his posture hunched to minimize himself to my level. Time slowed to a crawl around us.

 

“Oh, actually, I had to sorta wante--needed to you about something. Sorry, if it's kind of weird or out of nowhere, but I, uh--”

 

The bell shrieked then, managing to surprise me, and even more so, Nicolae. He jumped up from his seat in surprise, knocking over the music stand. The class paid no heed to the noise, as a cacophony of zippers closing and shoes scuffling towards the door took its place.

 

“Ugh, I _hate_ the bell here. It wasn't so loud in Ned's De-classified.”

 

I couldn't help myself from laughing at his observation; being homeschooled, of course he'd never experienced a school bell. But his choice of reference was nothing short of amusing.

 

“Ha, you get used to it.”

 

He stuffed the guitar back into its locker, then hurried to catch me by the door. I stopped in front of it, forcing him to finish before he could follow me down the halls, where every human would inevitably see.

 

“What was it you were going to ask me?” I peered up at him. It felt odd craning my neck just to speak with someone. I wondered how he felt looking down on all those he talked to. It certainly hadn't given him a superiority complex-- quite the opposite, it seemed. He was shy, blushy, and blabbering in front of me like a flustered schoolgirl.

 

‘ _It's cute.'_

 

The thought passed through without restraint, shocking me. Was _that_  why I'd felt to protective, or newfoundly talkative with him? I mentally kicked myself. ‘ _He's not **cute** , he's an adolescent young man who's desperate to find a niche. Treat him as such.'_

 

“I was, uh, told by Mr. Banner that, since I'm so unfamiliar with the material, but I need to take Bio in my junior year, that I should get someone to, um, tutor me, and he recommended you, since you've got like, the highest grade in the class, and also you're my desk partner, so we could maybe study together and swap phone numbers” He saw my face go hard from my own split second thought process, and added a meek “Or something, I don't know” at the end of his monologue.

 

My phone was already in my hand before he finished-- an older model android, a burner that was a little more stylish, as per Alice's desperate begging for me to be able to download “Snapchat” and “Instagram”. I opened the Contacts and passed it off to him.

 

“Of course, just put your name in and I'll send a message later. We can schedule a time and place to meet.” I could use these as the necessary “educational volunteer hours” required for seniors to graduate. Though my family had been able to use our frequenting at the hospital with our father as volunteer hours at other schools, this small town wouldn't budge in its meaningless rules. Most students falsely tutored their friends to make up the time anyhow. I was glad that at least my opportunity came from an individual whose blood didn't stick a branding iron down my esophagus.

 

I knew it was inherently meaningless, nothing more than just a contact based on requirement, but it was… Actually rather exciting to have this boy's contact information. He'd be the only name in there that wasn't a family member, or part of the Denali Coven, which was extended family anyhow.

 

He passed back the phone, apparently having had trouble with his large hands on the small screen. The contact name read “Nc8oale Tutor Friendd”. Hm. A physical reaction that baffled me, as I hadn't felt it in all my undead life, occurred- my chest felt strangely tight. Was I really this excited over something so small? Embarrassing. Pathetic. Get over yourself, Edward.

 

“Your phone is tiny, man.” He chuckled, ducking under the doorway as I left. “I'll be seeing you, Edward! Bye!” He waved at me like I was blind, hand snapping in the air a dozen times before he headed in his own direction, down a different hallway.

 

Against every sense of dignity I had in my body, every sense of pride I'd developed in my century-old life, I looked back at my phone. Back at the contact name.

 

“Friend”.

 

 _Fantastic_. I, a vampire, a demon, a literal murderer, was getting soft. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is twice the length of chapter 1, oops
> 
> it's kinda weird to write from edward's perspective, since he's so mood-changy but also constantly brooding, but also fun, so i hope i'm doing alright ;; 
> 
> in the meanwhile local vampire boy made is first ever friend in school! congratulations, vampire boy


	3. Gold and Peridot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward sends his first text to a non-family member EVER

No matter which way I spun it, the word wouldn't escape my head the entire drive home. My siblings sat, frozen in silence, each in their own worlds together. Alice leaned into Jasper, Rosalie stroked Emmett's hand absentmindedly from across seats. I'd grown used to the quietly intimate exchanges that occurred whenever I drove, but it always felt a bit exclusionary. Though I sat in the car with them, I sat alone. Alone, and content.

 

Alone, except for the contact name on my phone, that was practically burning a hole in my pocket. The more I suppressed the thought, the more it fought to make itself known in the most mocking of ways.

 

We were home in mere minutes. Everyone thawed from their frozen positions, melting out the car and into the house. Before I'd gone through the door, Alice stopped me with a hand, and a thought.

 

‘ _Are you alright? You looked more constipated than usual during the drive_.’

 

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Alice to read my face so well. I adjusted it into a plain, calm mask before Esme could read into it further.

 

‘ _You can talk to me about it if you want-- I'll stop by your room later anyway_.’

 

Alice had become something of a one-man mental health brigade the last few years. She'd forced upon me all sorts of methods of “self-care” that'd been aggrandized within the last decade: yoga, white noise, “adult” coloring books, and the last one was “fidget” toys. I'd crushed the toy between my fingers absentmindedly one day, which turned out to be a grave mistake on my part. Alice was devastated-- it was apparently a _Louis Vuitton_ branded spinner. Frivolities aside, I appreciated her efforts at trying to ins till a sense of peace within me, even if it proved to be obnoxious at times. It was Alice, after all. She was both the unstoppable force and the immovable object.

 

Esme, with the consistency of clockwork, welcomed each of us back as we entered the house. She was in the foyer, trimming her house-born apple bonsai. One of the mothers from the latest PTA meeting had introduced her to the hobby, and she now tended to her miniature trees lovingly.

 

“How was your day at school?” The question lingered for all of us and any of us to answer. It was an ordinarily warm question to come home to.

 

“There was the new kid at school today, you’d mentioned him last week-” Alice started.

 

“The kid's an absolute fucking **unit**.” Emmett finished.

 

“Language, Emmett. This is a house, not a brothel.”

 

“Sorry, ma.”

 

Rosalie smacked his arm. She answered Esme’s question more fully.

 

“Nothing greatly interesting. The new student is a satyr, which you probably know how _that_ went. At least conversations about us will definitely die down." She thought of her sophomore year-- bitterly enduring the rumors of us being some sort of incestual cult. Her light step became an annoyed tap as she ascended the stairs with Emmett.

 

“Yes, so I’d heard. John’s son.” She nodded solemnly. “The poor boy-- I had heard he was homeschooled all this time because of something just awful traumatic when he was younger.” Her hand, stained a delicate green, moved to hover to her chest in sympathy.

 

John Wyrming, the father of Aurora-- and apparently Nicolae too. The town’s librarian. A middle-aged black man who was a frequent visitor to PTA meetings, and had announced his son's transfer from homeschooling in the last meeting. Jaws, according to Esme at least, were dropped. Apparently, no one had seen his son since the boy was small, except for in glimpses in the family's yard, or through windows before a curtain was drawn.

 

“He'll be coming over soon to study with Edward.” Alice said, matter-of-factly. She'd already deduced the visions meaning from the context clues surrounding it. I sighed.

 

‘ _Edward volunteered to tutor_?’ Esme’s thoughts, while shocked, were immediately swelling with pride.

 

“I wouldn't say _volunteered,_ so much as I agreed to, rather.” My efforts were fruitless. Esme laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, her face beaming. She was the poster image of a proud mother.

 

‘ _Don't sell yourself short, you're much kinder than you give yourself credit for._ ’

 

Were I human, I would've blushed. Instead, I ducked my head bashfully.

 

“Thanks, mom.”

 

‘ _I can't wait to meet your new friend-- you have to find out if he has any dietary restrictions, or allergies before he comes over!_ ’

 

“ _Thanks_ , mom.”

 

I had to divert an enormous amount of energy not to roll my eyes at her nesting instincts. I could only hope she wouldn't voice these concerns with Alice-- the two made for a terrifying duo when it come to event-planning. It was a tutorship, not a house party. And it was _definitely_ not an " _Edward made a friend_ ” party, as Esme now started framing in her head.

 

She shook her head with a smile, before turning to a new jasmine bonsai she was trying to cultivate. Her eyes flashed-- she’d forgotten to mention another group of visitors.

 

“Irina, Tanya, and Kate called-- they are coming down to Seattle to visit us briefly.”

 

“What about Eleazar and Kate?” Jasper asked. He leaned against one of the open, white support beams near the staircase. He was quite fond of Eleazar and Kate; their loving relationship was similar to his and Alice’s, and their gentle demeanor was an emotional climate he admired.

 

“It’s Eid-al-Adha, so they’re staying at home.”

 

 Jasper's thoughts quickly turned sour. Their presence was what he'd been looking forward to most out of the visit. He wasn't exactly fond of Tanya’s... less than _ladylike_ demeanor, which was often followed by Kate and Irina's younger-sibling mimicry. Alice laid an apologetic hand on his shoulder and tutted softly. He rolled his eyes at the mocking gesture, but wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to the living room.

 

Carlisle was still on duty at the hospital, and with everyone otherwise occupied, I was left alone with my thoughts again.

 

In half a minute, I ran up to my room and relaxed onto the chaise lounge I had. Not quite a bed, as I didn't require sleep, but something to lie across and muse. I flipped through my phone to play something from the large, bluetooth speakers I'd gotten from Emmett last Christmas. I had to hand it to my “older” brother-- he had fantastic taste in electronics. The sound system came to life, easing the piano notes from their technicolor speakers. Vibing from blue to green, the stereo cones leaked high piano keys into the carpeted walls. Into the velvet of the couch, into the solid rock that was my heart. Though my heart was forever still, the rhythm bounced around in the chassis of my stone ribcage, echoing through the reverberations of my core.

 

Meditation had quickly become routine. School left me exhausted in a way that I'd found comfort in emptying my thoughts on the lounge chair to Tame Impala. The repetitive beats, which I'd once considered mediocre, were surprisingly  easy to lose oneself to.

 

I focused first on my fingertips, erasing the sensation of touch. Arms, shoulders, chest, all the while going up from my legs to hips to heart, and finally, my face. After a few minutes, all that was left was thought. I focused on the image of the winding Sol Duc River that stretched behind the glass wall panel of my room. The river, rushing and babbling, the same current pulsing with new water. Blues, browns, whites, and greens. Vivid greens that painted the reflection of the water like drops of peridot.

 

Two peridot eyes looked back at me from the imaginary river, silent thoughts flowing and rushing and babbling in them. Eager. Kind.

 

My eyes snapped open, dispelling the image in my head.

 

I had to pull in a tug of breath to clear my head; even his peculiar scent had cloyed my thoughts. Cinnamon, sweat, elm trees, cut grass, chamomile, ginger. A motley of sweet and spice, yet plainly unappetizing. Like a perfume rather than a meal. I'd been mildly thirsty today, but in the claustrophobic music room, his scent had overpowered every humans’ in the class. Which was… fairly useful, now that I pondered it. I hadn't felt the typical burn of thirst the whole period. Not even a flare.

 

The phone was in my hand without a second thought, and I sent a message to “Nc8olae Tutor Friendd”. I chuckled at the contact name-- it was too humorous to fix.

 

“ _Hello Nicolae, this is Edward Cullen. Let me know what time works best for you to study. I recommend that we meet at my house, but I'm open to any suggestions you may have._ ”

 

The words shone back at me. Basic black text on a white background. Somehow, it felt too formal for what was supposed to be a conversation between schoolmates.

 

Hesitantly, I pressed send.

 

Twenty-three minutes later, the phone lit up with a response.

 

“ _yooooooooo! uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh probably after 3 on thrsday or friday would be lit_ ”

 

‘Lit?’ I briefly recalled hearing the word before, spoken by Jason Bealls. Slang for something positive, probably.

 

“ _Friday would be the most lit._ ”

 

“ _yea!! i'll see u there. and also tomrw i guess, lol_ ”

 

I couldn't tell if my manner of typing was too formal, or if his was immature. I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that last message, either. A ‘best regards’ would be far too standoffish. But it was too soon in our-- friendship? Aquaintanceship? Tutorship?-- to be familiar.

 

“ _See you then._ ”

 

All this dramatic deliberating over a simple text was downright shameful. I was suddenly glad that I was the only telepath in this family; anyone else being able to hear my thoughts would've taken me for a bashful schoolgirl. I rolled my eyes.

 

Emmett called me from downstairs, my name a neon sign in his thoughts.

 

‘ _Edward, come on and watch Netflix with us. I need you to come and vote for Sharknado 5 before Jasper makes us watch more fucking Criminal Minds_.’

 

How had something as simple as a text winded me? I felt like I'd burnt through my social skills with that one message. They'd be put out if I kept myself holed in my room any longer this week. It was a side of myself I wasn't exactly ecstatic to see either.

 

It took an unusual amount of willpower to leave the comfort of my room. In a flash, I sat on the arm of the living room sofa, nest to Alice. A devilish smirk formed on my face.

 

“Hey Jasper, we haven't watched Criminal Minds in a while.”

 

The resulting barrage of groans turned my smirk into a full-blown grin. Jasper bumped his scarred fist against mine.

 

 

“ _See you then._ ”

 

The text was a promise. At the same time that I was excited, I was equally anxious. This was the first time I'd texted anyone who wasn't immediate family. I felt utterly and completely lost-- Were there any episodes of Degrassi or Ned's Declassified that went over making friends? The advice Aurora gave me a week ago, and pretty much my whole life, scattered from my brain like frightened birds. And TV and internet could only help me so far… Were all interactions this stressful?

 

Everytime I looked back at my phone, his dark gold eyes stared back, confused and expectant. They made my fingers fumble and my skin prick with goosebumps.

 

“Mr. Wyrming.”

 

I looked down from my phone, startled. The shorter, dusty blond man frowned at me from behind the counter.

 

“You need to sign the receipt.”

 

“Oh. S-sorry, sir.”

 

The general store owner, Mike Newton, crossed his arms and sighed heavily. He didn't seem surprised when he saw me enter his store, though I knew he'd never seen me before. Probably heard about me from other people in town. If anything, he seemed highly annoyed that I was in here ten minutes before closing. The man's brow furrowed as I fumbled with the change he'd handed me. It wasn't as bad as the staring, but it still made me feel nervous. And a little bit like a jerk.

 

“Have a nice day, come again.” He grumbled out when I'd finished, grabbed my bags, dropped them twice, and then picked them up. I felt my ears burn as I practically sprinted out the door. _Nice_. _Take up even more of his time, why don't you._

 

The General Store was only half a mile from home, but Aurora insisted on driving me. She claimed it was to get used to driving with me in the back, but I knew better. She and Dad were afraid of me having a run-in with someone who wasn't particularly _fond_ of satyr. I was big, but I wasn't bulletproof. And this place was chock full of game hunters. No shortage of guns on this part of the coast, that was for sure. One eveb hung proudly on a mantle behind Mike Newton’s head. I was sweating bullets the second I entered the store.

 

“Did you get my Jalapeño chips?”

 

I hopped in the bed of the truck; the only way I could fit comfortably. Aurora grinned at me from the rear-view mirror. I tossed the bag to her through the open rear window.

 

“Sweet.”

 

“You owe me three bucks, Aury.”

 

She snorted. “Die. I bought you cheetos yesterday.”

 

“ _Regular_ . You know I wanted puffs. You trynna kill me?” I laughed and ran a hand through my hair, then over my horns. They still felt sore from slamming into the doorway of the school this morning.

 

“Did Edward text you about the tutoring thing? You looked at your phone all crazy-eyed in the store.” She bugged her eyes out to mimic me. “He send you a dick pic or what?”

 

“Shut up, you wish-- and yeah, he said after school at his place.”

 

She snorted, turning the car out from the parking lot.

 

“Can't believe my little brother has a date with _Edward Cullen_. How are we gonna tell dad?”

 

“It's not a date! I barely know him! All I know is he's shy, pasty and quiet-- not exactly my type.” 

 

“Yeah, sure. Don't forget to tell us how his bony, pale butt feels. It's the closest us _mere humans_ will ever get to it.” She threw a hand over her head in a faux faint. I stuck my tongue at her, which quickly became my face smooshed to the glass as she threw the car into drive.

 

The wind picked up, and the road home was too bumpy to have much conversation. I gripped the sides of the truck bed so I wasn't jostled around so much. The forest formed two solid walls of trees on either side of us, rich with dense fog.

 

A flash of color amidst the trees caught my eyes. Alabaster, almost white, shimmering from the veil of fog like a diamond in the dust. For a second, it looked like platinum hair, whipping in the wind.

 

I blinked, then peered out into the forest again. Like a mirage, it had vanished as soon as it passed.

 

I knew it was probably a bird, something with big flowy plumage that was hit by the wind. Maybe even a silver fox; I'd seen them before. Yet I couldn't help the goosebumps that pricked my skin, or the tremor that overtook my spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided i wanna switch between edward and nicolae's pov every other chapter or so, so i ended this one with nicolae as like, a taste-test. nico tastes sweaty and nervous so far.


	4. Enchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward is terrible at drawing, and nicolae is weirdly good at guitar, and they both make each other's chest feel funny.

Nobody prepares you for the second day of school, not _really_. After that first day, everyone just kind of assumes you get the idea. I'd like to correct that assumption; for the first week, you have absolutely no fucking clue what's up.

 

I wasn't late this morning, and somehow that was worse than if I had been. Students couldn't enter classes until the first bell rung, so every kid that showed up even a minute early had to bide their time in the overcrowded main hallway. I felt like an oversized sardine. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder, but the kids next to me were pressed almost painfully into my arms and chest. This one dude's shoulder was threatening to fuse itself with my right nipple, and I had no idea how or where to even _start_ with that.

 

A shot of light echoed from behind me. A camera flash. I turned-- and was immediately blinded by a second.

 

“Hey Amanda, get closer to him, no one will tell how tall he is if you're not side by side.”

 

A girl with flat blonde hair inched even closer to me, tossing up a peace sign.

 

Shock transformed my face to mirror hers. I smiled and weakly held up a peace sign too. To my relief, Amanda giggled, hurrying over to her friend without a single word. I felt… strange. My ears cocked backwards to listen to them gush over the photos.

 

“He even posed!”

 

“Yeah, that was pretty nice. Wow, look how huge his fingers are!”

 

The bell rung, and everyone marched towards their classes. I was still bewildered, but those two girls seemed to leave with a friendly disposition towards me. I felt... oddly upset. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I stifled the feeling.

 

I had no clue what I was going to face today, nor any other day, but I did my best to smile as I squeezed down the hallway to Biology class.

 

The door was propped open with a triangular chunk of wood. The doorways here were so low it was stupid-- even some of the tall human boys had to duck. I felt the top of my horns graze the wood, and it sent tingles down the nape of my neck.

 

“Hey, Nico!” Atticus called from the desk in the front corner of the room. His desk partner, Jason Bealls, smirked at me.

 

My heart jumped. It was only the second day, and without Aurora's help, the popular kids were talking to _me_ ? By _myself_? Part of me took note to thank Aurora tonight for her connections. An even larger part of me blanked at how to respond.

 

‘ _Okay, Nico, just keep it cool, keep it simple. Cool dudes don't just talk on and on. Make eye contact-- oh shit, he's staring right at you-- say something, already!’_

 

“H-hey dude, what's crackalackin’?” I wheezed out.

 

“Huh? Cracka _what_?”

 

“I think it's old slang for ‘what's up’.” Jason Bealls corrected. Atticus glanced at him with obvious doubt in his eyes, and my stomach dropped. Shit. Shit shit _shit_ , do people not say that anymore?

 

“Yeah, I m-meant ‘what's up’. Sorry, we just, uh say that a lot around the house, so I didn't realize other people didn't say it--”

 

“It's good, man, it's all good.” Jason stuck out a hand, pausing me, and I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from babbling like an idiot.

 

“I thought you called me a cracker, for a second,” Atticus snorted “I was like ‘whoa, where'd that come from?’”

 

Atticus laughed, Jason laughed, and I started laughing too. It eased my nerves.

 

“Anyway, Jay and I wanted to know if you were interested in joining the team.”

 

Jason leaned in, looking up at me with a weird glint in his eyes.

 

“The _basketball_ team.”

 

In hindsight, I really should have seen it coming, but never in a million years did I expect the question. They wanted me on their team? My knees wobbled from excitement. I knew it was just cause of my height, but the idea itself made my heart beat funny. They wanted  _me_ on the basketball team.

 

Before I could even register it, I was nodding.

 

“Y-yeah, totally! I'd love to!” I couldn't fight the eagerness in my voice if I wanted to. It cracked on the 'love'.

 

“Good.” Jasonleaned back in his chair again. “Sign ups are next week. Talk to Coach Clapp after P.E to get ahead of the game. We need a dude like you this year-- Our Center is graduating and his replacement is only six-feet tall.”

 

I nodded dumbly, not understanding a word he said. I'd never watched basketball in my life. Hopefully they wouldn't dump me for that. Was there a Basketball-for-Dummies? Or a Youtube tutorial?

 

“Aight, see you ‘round man.” Atticus nodded, granting me permission to go sit down. I was thankful for the opening-- my brain had pretty much short-circuited after ‘ _sign up are next week_ ’.

 

Edward was already there, at his desk. _Our_ desk, now, I guess. To call me excited was an understatement. I was pretty much ecstatic to _know_ someone already, in my first class of the day. I turned to face him, and couldn't help but smile.

 

Two black eyes stared bleakly back at me.

 

I could feel my smile fall, but I did my best to hold it up. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, even though he looked… well, like a corpse. Had he always looked like that? I racked my brain for his facial details yesterday; he did look somewhat tired, a bit jaded, but I was mostly distracted by how modelesque he looked. Crazy skinny and crazy pale, but with that impossibly smooth skin and high cheekbones of a model. A ghostly angular face with amber eyes--

 

Which was weird, because his eyes were black today. I distinctly remembered their dark gold color yesterday. Everytime he spoke, I couldn't help but stare at them. They were such an odd color; the gold looked almost superimposed over his eyes. Like a contact lens. Did they all wear gold contacts as a family emblem, or something?

 

While I thought, Edward gave a crooked smile back at me. His face came alive for that moment, bruise-colored eye bags and pallid skin forgotten. His smile slowly fell, and it was then I realized I'd been staring at him and smiling for an ungodly amount of time without saying anything.

 

“Uh.”

 

If I could've strangled myself, I would've.

 

God was on my side today, apparently, cause he just chuckled. It sounded pretty too, like his face. It was weird to think, but true. Nobody could deny it-- even looking like a dead body, he was handsome. Not my type, but I could see the draw; why Aurora had said that almost  _everyone_ had a crush on him last year. I tried to talk again, even dizzier now.

 

“Um.”

 

He breathed in a soft laugh.

 

“Good morning, Nicolae.”

 

“A-ahuh?”

 

Without contacts, his gaze was even more gripping. He put me in a visual chokehold with them. Obsidian eyes that somehow absorbed all light. With a shudder, I realized not even the fluorescent lights reflected in them. _Weird._

 

He turned away, focusing his gaze on the board. I hadn't realized class had started. Did the second bell ring? My ears were ringing instead.

 

Great. Now I probably looked like a huge, disgusted jerk, meanwhile Edward was exhausted and probably just trying to get through the day. Maybe I could salvage this mornings greeting from my own stupid self.

 

I scribbled on the corner of a sheet of notebook paper, ripped it off, and slid it over to him all as discreetly as I could. Which, to be honest, was probably the least subtle thing ever done.

 

He flinched at my hand, which was suddenly all up in his space. He waited until my hand had lifted off the paper to take it himself and look at my tiny doodle.

 

With what I think was a laugh, though it sounded like a hard exhale, he pulled out a pen and scribbled something below it. He slid it across the table like a ninja throwing a shuriken. It landed under my hand like it'd been there all along.

        

Underneath the smiley sheep with a peace sign that I drew, he'd drawn… A spider? A monkey? The squiggles were so crude I couldn't make heads or tails of what it was. Under the scribble, he wrote, in perfect font, “ _Nice drawing_ ”.

 

I took out my pen and wrote under his drawing “ _what's this_?”, with a line pointing at it.

 

I slid it over to him, and the paper earned a quirk of his eyebrows, then another hard exhale. This one sounded closer to a laugh.

 

He shot the paper back subtly.

‘ _It's me giving you a thumbs up._ ’

 

I almost snorted. Almost. I turned the sheet a dozen times to see it and failed. I redrew what I saw below it.

 

‘ _lol, it looks like a drunk cat._ ’

 

He handed back the paper, having circled various parts of the doodle and labelling them. Hand, body, face. His diagram failed to help. Instead, I drew a cat giving his drawing a thumbs up, and tossed it to his lap under the table.

 

He wrote on the back of the paper for more space.

 

‘ _It's not a cat; this is a cat._ ’

 

Below that, he drew what could have been a helicopter on fire. It had a little “meow” coming from above it.

 

‘ _that's not a cat my dude, this is a cat._ ’

 

I drew a cat with abs, shades, and a joint in its mouth. On a skateboard.

 

‘ _I'm a pianist, not an illustrator_.’ He'd added a squiggly frowny face. With cat ears and shades.

 

‘ _take an art class, lmao_ ’

 

This time, the paper stayed on his lap as he stared at the board with laserlike focus. I tried to follow his lead, and I saw that Mr. Banner was staring at us especially hard. He must've been moments away from calling us out. Whew. Ed had my back a second time.

 

Without our secret note-sharing, or a lab experiment, Biology got boring real quick. I could feel my eyes cross. My notes turned into sleepy scribbles in the last fifteen minutes, and I was thankful for when I heard the shuffling of books being packed into bags.

 

With a minute left, I heard the ‘ _swoosh_ ’ of paper sliding across the desk. It landed right in my hand.

 

It was a picture of a cat giving a thumbs up-- the cat had his messy, swept-up hair. It took me a second to figure out how he got it to look remotely like a cat, with the lines still being somehow wobbly. He'd traced mine.

 

I pocketed the paper with a snort and a laugh. He smirked at me, dark eyes filled with sarcastic humor. It made me smirk too, like we both had a little secret. A secret filled with shitty cat drawings.

 

“See ya in Orchestra, Edward!”

 

He gave me a single wave, and I head out to P.E.

 

* * *

 

Eons passed before lunchtime, and my stomach had already thrown two hunger tantrums in anticipation for it. I sat at what was now ‘my seat’ at the end of a long table of upperclassmen.

 

Aurora was deep in conversation with Samantha about some Halloween event in the upcoming month. A good chunk of the table had a place on the school's Program Board, but the conversation flew over my head as they worked out things like ‘budget details’ and ‘promo items’. I let my eyes glaze over as I bit into my burger.

 

“--Right, Nicolae?”

 

I snapped up, looking at a semi-familiar face. An Asian kid in my Physics class with bleached hair, separating him from his twin brother. _Something_ Weber-- I couldn't remember his first name.

 

“Huh, what's up?”

 

“You're coming to the beach party on friday, right?”

 

What? Beach party? That was the first I've heard of it. I was way too stunned by the question to process it.

 

“Uh? Um. Where is it?”

 

“Over by Second Beach, at like 8 or 9.”

 

I nodded, recognizing the name. I’d been to Second Beach as a kid. Around six or seven-- I vaguely remembered making sandcastles with Aurora, and the sand clinging to my fur and hair for days. I wasn’t a huge fan of sand. But making friends… I would take sand in my hair for _months_ if it meant I could hang out with them.

 

“Yeah, I-I’m coming!”

 

A variety of grins shone back at me, and I felt warm. Uneasy too, but I tried to quash it.

 

 _______________________________________

 

Lunch had left me with a pleasant sleepiness, which sucked for the next three periods. My head felt slightly disembodied as it snapped up every couple minutes in math class.

 

I staggered tiredly to Orchestra. From far away, messy copper hair bobbed among a sea of heads, and excitement swelled in my chest.

 

My stride was longer than his, and I was behind him in seconds. Edward's tired eyes were dark enough that I could see my grin reflected back in them. He looked… Relieved, weirdly enough. He quirked the sides of his mouth up, but his lips didn't move. It took me a minute to realize he was attempting a smile.

 

It felt weird to walk quietly beside him; there were so many things I wanted to say, to ask, to know about him, yet I suddenly couldn't remember any of them. Time to improv, I decided.

 

“Nice weather, huh?”

 

God, please strike me now.

 

He raised an eyebrow at that. The expression looked weird, ‘cause his smooth face somehow didn't wrinkle with it.

 

“It's raining.” He said.

 

“Oh,” I whispered.

 

It'd been raining all day, with the skies going from drizzle to torrent to downpour to drizzle, but not once lifting up. I could hear the rain slapping the roof even now. God, I was gonna burn to death from embarrassment. Maybe I'd set a Guinness World Record. The first man to ever spontaneously combust from his own stupidity.

 

“I, uh. I like the rain.”

 

“Do you, really?” He seemed doubtful.

 

“Uh... No, actually. It looks pretty but... To be honest, it makes my fur smell like a dog.” I couldn't decide if that was TMI or not, but I said it in hopes of a laugh.

 

It worked-- his eyes narrowed for a second at me, and then he cough-snickered the rest of the way to the classroom. I felt a little mean for it, but I started to laugh at _his_ laugh. It sounded just like Ernie from Sesame Street.

 

I'd lugged my guitar to all my classes, and even though it wasn't heavy, it was a relief to set it down. I felt like a lackey throughout the day, and more than a few kids had shoved their way around me in the halls.

 

“You ready to practice today?” Leah looked at my guitar expectantly.

 

Truth be told, my hands were so sweaty I wondered if I could even pluck it right. Nervousness pulsed through me; I'd never played in front of anyone but Dad and Aurora before.

 

But chickening out now wasn't an option. I was in Orchestra now-- I couldn't _not_ play.

 

So I sucked in a deep breath, and nodded.

 

“Yeah, I'm good to go.”

 

Edward ducked his head in affirmation, and started us off.

 

  


 

 "Yeah, I'm good to go," Nicolae affirmed, and I nodded.

 

The familiarity of the piece drove my fingers across the piano keys. I relaxed into the music, melted into it instantaneously. My throat, which burned irritably throughout the day, was calmed by my giant companion’s cloying flavor. I briefly mused if this was what the effects of acetaminophen felt like. I'd found my own walking, talking tylenol.

 

It was in the second count that Nicolae's part came in.

 

I'd heard guitar compositions of Petite Suite over a thousand times, in more than a hundred cafes in more than a dozen states. It was nothing new, nothing unusual. Or, it wasn't supposed to be.

 

There was just _something_ in the way he played, some spell in his fingertips as they brushed past the strings. His eyes had a far-off look, both entirely focused and yet dreamy. Every movement attuned to his instrument, and every pluck, every vibration, rang out with a harmony that echoed deep within the walls of the guitar. Like an entire band was playing with him, the ghosts of their instruments hidden in his fingers.

 

Magic. It was magic.

 

The sense of emotional tranquility that welled from inside and outside of me was unprecedented. It was not unlike Jasper's ability-- I found myself sinking into the feeling. All felt extremely _right_ in that moment...

 

Until he ceased playing, and I found myself in an ungentlemanly slump against my chair, slack jawed and stupefied. It took me a second to fix myself into a _dignified_ position. All at once, I felt a similar sentiment come from everyone in the room.

 

‘ _Wow_.’

 

It was an unanimous thought.

 

“Why'd you stop?” Leah voiced the question that Mr. Silva, and about three other kids, were about to ask.

 

“C-cause you guys both stopped?” His brows furrowed in confusion. “I didn't wanna, uh, continue by myself.” His eyes widened, suddenly, and his face began to flush. I could practically feel the wave of heat roll off of him.

 

Had I somehow imagined the doubled harmony of his guitar? It had sounded like he had his own symphony behind him. The melody still lingered in my ears, but without him playing, I was left only the memory of the song.

 

“I can see you really love guitar.” I tried to sound poignant and collected. Only familiarized, immortal ears would hear the tinge of surprise in my voice.

 

Nicolae didn't answer-- he just nodded, flustered. His eyes were glued to the floor.

 

The class returned to their own sections of the song group by group. The atmosphere was undeniably more lax, which begged the rather large question occupying my mind: were satyrs gifted?

 

I deliberated while counting us in again. I almost hesitated on the keys while I waited for Nicolae's part to come in-- and when it did, I felt immediately foolish for doing so. He played well. But that's all there was to it. There was no strange echoing, no pulsing waves of feeling. The other humans in the room hardly noticed, and I was left here, bewildered. How had he made it so enchanting last time?

 

I turned to him, and he seemed to be pointedly looking _away_ from his guitar. Instead he stared at the floor with a hard expression. Concentrating-- but not on playing, apparently. Everytime his eyes roamed over to his guitar, or to the sheet music, he would take a quick breath, and stare at the floor again.

 

There was only one conclusion. He was trying _not_ to repeat how he sounded earlier. Which meant that it _was_ some sort of gift, some supernatural ability that he was clearly trying to hide. And also meant he could play well enough to not look at the notes at _all_.

 

I could no longer bottle up the curiosity that hubbled inside me. With a wry smile, I finally deemed it a fruitless effort. I wanted to know more, to find out his gift, his thoughts, his kindness, his secrets. It was inevitable, really. I'd spent my whole immortal “life” gaining knowledge. And here was a golden mystery laid before me; how foolish I'd been, in trying to ignore it.

 

The class continued in a similar fashion, until the last five minutes, which instead of becoming a free-for-all, led to Nicolae being assaulted with compliments. I had to bite back a laugh; he looked absolutely flabbergasted.

 

“You're so good, you _need_ to perform for this year's talent show!”

 

“N-No, I really don't thi--”

 

“How'd you do the thing, like that weird harmonizing thing in the beginning?”

 

“Well, I, um--”

 

“Can you play Wonderwall?”

 

"No!" He laughed, bemused and exasperated.

 

All questions I'd faced in my first week--no, month of being here at this school. It was bothersome, but not entirely unflattering. I was glad when the barrage of compliments had dwindled down to only underclassmen.

 

When the class had cleared out, I made my approach. He was still locking up the guitar, so I stooped to help him.

 

“Oh! Thanks, Edward.”

 

“Of course. Do you need help putting away your stand?”

 

“Nah, I'm good.” He picked his and Leah's with one hand, easily.

 

“They're right, you know. You are incredibly talented.” The words came from nowhere. I hadn't meant to say them, but they rang true when they spilled forth.

 

He shook his head. “‘Thanks, but, I‘m not _that_ good.” He shrunk into himself, his chestnut hair covering his face. An echo of a thought-- I wanted to tilt his head up, examine his expression. I ignored the strange impulse.

 

“I'd beg to differ.” I offered a gentle smile, in hopes he'd meet my face. Slowly but surely, he turned his eyes to meet mine. He didn't smile with his lips, but the corners of his chartreuse eyes turned up, lighting them ablaze.

 

“Well, I guess I _am_ better at it than you are at drawing. So that's something.”

 

I chuckled. He wasn't wrong.

 

His gaze was starting to tug at my granite skin. It was goodbye, then, for now.

 

“I shall see you later, Nicolae.”

 

“Bye, Ed!”

 

Where had that come from? I'd only ever been called Ed by family, and hearing it come from him felt… strange. My chest, like yesterday, tightened in response.

 

I turned quickly towards the door and away from the feeling, away from the frantic waving of the giant satyr in the room.


	5. Ripples of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward has some rather strange impulses about nicolae...

Friday came with unprecedented quickness. The days usually felt arduous in their passing  but I found that Nicolae kept me on my toes, kept me entertained each morning and every afternoon.

 

Wednesday, we collaborated in a cell biology lab, where we ended up examining a strand of hair from each other's head under a microscope. He marvelled at the color of mine, and, much to my own flattery, likened the color to a sunset. Not to be beat in compliments, I’d noted how his hair was the color of chocolate.

 

By Thursday, he spoke to me with a quick and loud voice that radiated both eagerness and familiarity. I took some pride in how he still spoke a bit nervously to others.

 

Friday arrived, and he came in, clapped his hand against Jason’s, high-fived Atticus, fist-bumped Sean Khan, and then sat next to me. The school had acclimated to his presence in a fashion I hadn't anticipated -- _Tend & Befriend _ rather than Fight or Flight. This was partly Nicolae's doing; he was so eager for friendship that it seemed downright _wrong_ to openly hate him. He was too kind and jovial and _present_ to hate. That didn't stop others from being spiteful behind closed doors, though.

 

I suppose it was fortunate his bullies were quiet and subtle. Were he short and scrawny, he'd be tormented immediately. But as with Emmett and Jasper, no one dared to challenge him. They were far too intimidating to intimidate.

 

As he sat down next to me, I couldn't help but notice he'd started to dress towards his physique too. The mahogany sweater he wore pulled taut against his muscled arms. As large as my head, I mused. He glanced at me sideways, expression slightly concerned, and it was only then I realized I'd been staring.

 

I cursed inwardly; this was quickly becoming a habit. Since Wednesday, when he wore a tight blue sweater, I would catch myself staring at his physique. It must have been because of just how _large_ he was. He had the body of an adult athlete but the face of a young man. Surely, it was the juxtaposition was what had me gawk.

 

“You ready for studying later?” He offered, graciously pulling me from my train of thought.

 

“Of course. The question is, are you?” I taunted.

 

“Yep-- I gotta ask though, there's a party happening at Second Beach later, do you maybe wanna chill there after studying? It'd be nice to like, hang out in a not-school place.”

 

Second Beach? I'd have to check in with Alice for the weather over there. That, and I wasn't necessarily invited. Showing up at all might make a spectacle. But I did like the idea of chatting in a setting beyond the subject of academia.

 

“I'll have to see about that. If not, you at least get to come over to my house.” I shrugged, trying to keep the statement nonchalant. Inside, I was piqued. It was the first time having a mortal visitor to our household in quite some time. Which, of course, meant both Alice and Esme were ecstatic in arranging the place to be obsessively welcoming.

 

“Yeah, I can't wait! I even packed some snacks in my bag for us! The chocolate kinda melted, but maybe it'll resolidify by lunch.”

 

His genuity had me smiling, again.

 

The rest of Biology passed uneventfully. Nicolae dutifully took notes, but would make a joking aside every time he found a scientific word or phrase funny. I encouraged him a couple times, especially with the terms ‘golgi apparatus’ and ‘the Sonic Hedgehog protein’. It was childish, but fun. If anything, it was because his laughter was contagious. Watching his broad chest tremor as he tried to hold his chuckles in did strange things to my _own_ chest. Perhaps the mirror neurons of my human past were still absently firing in my brain, trying to mimic what I saw.

 

Whatever it was, I had to admit that the past week had made me feel… human. It was an odd thing to say, and I felt sardonic whilst I thought it, but it was an apt description for the strong warmth and youth I felt around Nicolae.

 

My family had certainly noticed an external change from me, especially Jasper and Esme.

 

“You're smiling a lot more, lately.” Jasper said at lunch.

 

I shrugged. “He's entertaining.” That was an understatement.

 

“Can't wait to actually meet him today,” Emmett mused, “actually, I just wanna get a picture of him next to Alice.”

 

“I'd come face-to-face with his crotch!” She mock-complained, giggling. We all snickered at that. It felt livelier at our table; we usually sat in silence.

 

“He has to leave early though; the beach party?” Alice turned the last statement into a question, looking over at me. ‘ _It's Second Beach, meaning we could go if we wanted to. No treaty to stop us.’_

 

“Yes, he invited _me,_ Alice.” I smiled tauntingly at her. “No pixies allowed.”

 

Alice moved to kick me under the table, but I heard the thought long before, and dodged. She stuck her tongue out at me in defiance.

 

“The weather is cloudy all day, so have fun, or _whatever_ . Without your _favoritest_ sister.” She sniffed pitifully, and I had to roll my eyes.

 

“I love you and Rosalie equally, I'm afraid.” I l sat back, crossing my arms. Rosalie snorted from the other side of the table, but I could hear that she was pleased.

 

“So we're both coming?” Alice was beaming at Rose, who looked less than enthused.

 

It was Rosalie who spoke before I did, though her sentiment was much the same.

 

“No, neither of us are. That boy only invited Edward; can you imagine if the whole Cullen family suddenly came along? Think about how that would look. They already think we're some sort of Christian cult hivemind."

 

Alice pouted whilst Jasper stroked her back. “She's right,” He said gently.

 

“We never get to do anything at _any_ school, though. What's the point in going to high school at all if we're just gonna keep quiet and sit around?” Emmett had always been touchy on the topic of keeping to ourselves in public-- the tedium of forced solitude broke him down the most. “I say go, Alice. We can crash a few parties in groups, little by little, till they get used to us. We just won't let ‘em _too_ close, then no problem.”

 

Rosalie sighed, and Jasper was even less interested in the idea. I had to agree with them-- humans were too instinctively afraid of our kind for a large group of us to ever mingle with them. I was lucky that satyr, apparently, didn't seem to harbor that instinct.

 

Lunch was over fairly abruptly. Alice gave me a pout before heading off to class.

 

‘ _You're gonna let me come to the beach party, or you're going to regret it. Either outcome is likely.’_

 

I saw a flash of Alice sporting a new Armani bathing suit, then one of her kicking apart my stereo system. Even though the “vision” was hypothetical, I cringed.

  


He hadn't played the guitar quite the same as Tuesday. This wouldn't have bothered me, if not for the strange tug I felt whenever he touched the strings. Whatever gift or ability he had, and I was _certain_ it was something, it must have various levels of intensity. I felt strange watching him play, as if the notes were tickling the sides of my neck. It must have been the music.

 

I tried, and repeatedly failed, not to stare at how his biceps twitched sometimes while plucking the strings. He interrupted my thoughts with a heavy sigh, ripping my eyes from his muscles and focusing on his distraught expression and pouty lips.

 

“I feel like I keep messing up on this part here.”

 

He played a small medley, without a single sour note.

 

“You're magnificent. I don't hear a problem.”

 

He looked down, bashful. “The timing doesn't sound off?”

 

Nicolae strummed again, while I played the same medley on piano. He was right; he lagged a second behind me. I somehow hadn’t noticed, which didn’t bother me as much as it should have. I’d focused more on the quality of his music, which was ever-growing on me. Even Leah Rigdon found solace in the sound.

 

“Class is almost over-- that's something we can work on at my house if you wish.”

 

I'd anticipated his pearl white teeth grinning at me, but not the sudden flush of deep ochre across his neck and nose. His heart thudded harder when I’d mentioned our meeting. It was a heavy heart, proportional to his size; the powerful sound was reminiscent of a taiko drum in the distance. Sturdy, like the heart of an ox.

 

Class ended with the scream of the bell, and Nicolae stood at attention like a soldier waiting command.

 

“So, uh, how’re we gonna do this?” He asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Get to your house.”

 

“My car, obviously.”

 

“Um. You mean the silver one?” He looked crestfallen.

 

I nodded slowly. What was he so put out about?

 

“I don't… Think I'll… Be able to fit inside.” He admitted, choosing his words with great care.

 

Ah.

 

“I can lean the seat back… Or we could take Emmett's jeep.”

 

His frown didn't lighten, but he nodded dutifully.

 

Lowering the seat all the way down allowed the car to just _barely_ encompass the boy's size. He had to bunch up his knees and toss his belongings in the trunk to make the most of the space. The seat belt gripped onto his body with silent desperation.

 

“Are you alright?” Concern leaked into my voice; he looked like he was strapped to a tiny gurney.

 

“‘M’fine” Came his choked reply.

 

His odd position forced his too-short shirt to rise over the rippled expanse that was his abdominals, and I could no longer turn to face him. It felt downright indecent-- but pulling down his shirt for him was out of line.

 

School had allowed for menial conversation between the two of us; neither of us had come prepared for the intensity of a car ride. An awkward silence washed over the car on the winding road home. Nicolae busied himself with his phone, and I forcibly focused all my attention to the road to avoid looking at him. Him and his much too exposed stomach. His tan skin reflected the red light that filtered through the autumn leaves, and down through the windows of the car.

 

‘ _Touch his abs.’_

 

The car swerved as I jolted backwards into my seat. It felt like an eternity before I regained control of the wheel-- and my ludicrous thoughts. Where in all of Hell did those thoughts _come_ from? It must have been his scent-- the cloying flavor wasn't prodding my thirst, but maybe it was doing something to my mind. It had to be. There was no other explanation, no single rational reason for me to have thought that. Venom pooled in my throat on instinct, and I swallowed it down like bile.

 

Meanwhile, Nicolae's heart drummed spastically from the passenger seat. In my peripheral, I could see the vein of his jugular throb to the rhythm. Cinnamon and cedarwood pulsed from his body like ocean waves.

 

“What was that?!”

 

“There was a cat on the road.” I said through grit teeth.

 

“Awh, crap, I hope it's okay...” He turned his head the two inches the space would allow, trying to peer out the back window, but his horn got caught on the seatbelt.

 

Thank God Almighty that the road was ingrained into memory, because try as I might, I couldn't focus on it. It took all my willpower to find something, _anything_ to distract me from my own mental lapse. I'd read about intrusive thoughts extensively, but hadn't experienced one since my newborn years, when I was riddled with thirst and newfound instinct. Perhaps I'd written it off as a trait of Newborns too soon. Perhaps I was going mad. Perhaps it was because I knew his abs would feel smooth under my finge--

 

I nearly tore off the steering wheel. Nearly.

 

Was this some sort of buried, human instinct of envy? Of need for physical contact? Maybe I'd gone too long without familial affection. What did the new psychology wave call it? “Skin hunger”. Apt for the strange impulsivity it featured.

 

I was weary with gratefulness when the thick trees gave way to a large clearing. Morning glories dotted the green moss path up to a stone-paved driveway. My family's house, ethereal in the storybook meadow it nestled in, was a welcome sight.

 

“ _That's_ your house?” Nicolae leaned as forward as he could. His green eyes bugged in fascination.

 

“Yes, _la casa Cullen, estamos aquí.”_

 

I slid out the car quickly, desperate for the damp forest air to clear my head. Moss, nuts, rodents, river water, algae, fish. All completely fresh and odorous, and I was thankful for it. Nicolae got out the other side, and I could see him wrench his shirt down in sudden embarrassment. So he hadn't noticed at all.

 

I made my way to the house, and he followed politely behind. He quietly "ooh"-ed and "ahh"-ed in astonishment as his head whipped around, taking in the view. Esme's architectural handiwork was truly a sight to behold-- I only wished she could see his reaction.

 

Hooves clicked noisily as he stepped onto the front porch, then stopped as he stood still behind me. I turned the knob-- the door had been left unlocked, as always, by Carlisle.

 

I opened the door, and immediately stilled at the sight before me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward has fun for the first time in eons, and then makes a questionable decision

Nicolae peered over my head, and I could hear the soft fall of his jaw in surprise.

 

Honestly, I should have expected it.

 

The entire living room interior was decorated with flowers  fairy lights, and ribbon. The ribbon and string lights wrapped around ever vertical surface, stretched up the staircase, and into the unseen depths of the house. White and blue roses were nestled here and there in crystalline vases, and when it was clear they had run out of vases, Esme and Alice had moved onto crowning the tops of flat surfaces with obsessively placed petals.

 

The house looked like a miniature ballroom. I fought back a groan.

 

“Wow. Your house is so… _beautiful_.”

 

He'd never seen our home before; no one had. With both relief and sadness, I realized he'd never been over to **anyone's** house before. As far as he knew, this was business as usual for the Cullen household. The glow in his eyes reflected his genuine joy in being here at all, and that relaxed me some.

 

Carlisle and Esme slowly approached us, careful not to frighten. They stood by the grand piano next to the entrance and smiled with the warmth and welcoming of two guardian angels.

 

“You must be Nicolae,” Esme spoke, “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

 

She looked up at him, fully taking in his form. Her thoughts, as usual, were gentle and considerate, even in astonishment.

 

‘ _What a tall boy... It's a good thing we had the door frames heightened for Emmett.’_

 

Carlisle had much the same sentiment, but with a slightly more analytical tone to his thoughts.

 

‘ _How interesting. Extraordinarily tall, even for a satyr. I wonder how he holds himself so straight on ungulate legs?_ ’

 

“Welcome to our home; we're glad to have you here, Nicolae.” Sincerity rang out in Carlisle’s words.

 

Nicolae stepped to my side, taking care not to step ahead of me, and bowed deeply.

 

“Thank you so much for having me here, you have an amazing home! It's so bright and pretty!” He lost formality fairly quickly, and instead took to turning his head this way and that, trying to see the living room view from all angles. His wavy hair flopped around wildly.

 

Esme chuckled into her hand.

 

“We certainly try to keep it open and clean in here, but thank you. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen while you study.” She smiled fully, allowing her dimples to shine through. Nicolae opened his mouth to respond, when a high-octave voice cut through the air from the bottom of the staircase.

 

“Nicolae!”

 

Alice kicked her heels against the steps to alert him to her arrival. The descent was slow, for her, but her dainty elegance was impeccable. As she crossed the tiled floor and stood before him, sticking her hand out, I couldn’t help but snicker. The difference in their sizes was staggering. Her head stopped square at the center of his torso, making her look even more fae than usual.

 

“It’s so nice to actually meet you! I’m sure we’re gonna get along great!”

 

“Y-Yeah, nice ta meetcha, uhm...?”

 

Nicolae leaned down to face her, and his large brown hand swallowed her tiny pale one.

 

“Alice. Alice Cullen.” She flashed an angelic smile.

 

“A-Alice.” He gulped. I could _see_ the cogs in his head turn, buffering to understand the allure our kind had. Seeing my whole family up close stunned most people, and he seemed no exception. I couldn’t hear his thoughts, but the physiological symptoms were all there. His heart raced, his breath quickened; my family felt the waft of his scent spread through the room, and were surprised at the distinctly herbivore scent.

 

Calmness swept through the room slowly, slowly lapping at the surface of my emotions, but not seeping into them. After all, I wasn’t the target.

 

Nicolae visibly relaxed as Jasper stepped into the room, gently smiling. He was cautious at first, but after taking in his peculiar scent, he mirrored Nicolae's relaxed posture.

 

‘ _Edward wasn't kidding, he really smells … like incense_.”

 

Incense! The perfect descriptor for the rich but cloying smell of his blood. It permeated the room like smoke from an aroma pot.

 

Jasper nodded at Nicolae in acknowledgment.

 

“Pleasure meetin’ you,” he drawled with a smile, “I'm Edward's older brother, Jasper.”

 

His hands lingered in his pockets, too cautious to greet him as boisterously as Alice had. Which was for the best. Esme, Carlise, and I were still shooting her warning glances.

 

“It's so great, uh so nice to meet you all, um--”

 

“Is it alright to study in my room?” It was less of a question and more of a statement; I was staking my claim on the space. I wanted the quiet and tailormade feel of my room, and I didn't want Nicolae to be stuck in a house tour for the next half-hour. My room was also closest to the second story bathroom, which would be of use for a mortal like him.

 

My family cleared the way, Jasper and Alice heading towards their own room, and Esme and Carlisle heading towards the kitchen. Nicolae kept a quick pace behind me up the stairs, surprisingly quiet as he tapped up the steps.

 

"Where's your other siblings?" He asked as he trotted up the spiral staircase.

 

"Rose and Emmett are at the movies."

 

"Oh? What movie they watchin'?"

 

"Much to Rose's dismay, Infinity War." I didn't doubt she was on her phone already.

 

I turned down the hallway to the left, hearing Nicolae marvel over the decorations that hung around our abode, and turned the crystal handle to my door.

 

Nicolae gave a low whistle.

 

“Wow, you like music, don't you Squidward?”

 

Chuckling, I moved toward the chaise lounge in the corner of my room, nestled into the corner and leaning against the wide window that was the eastern wall. Nicolae stood in the center of the room, marveling over various facets of my room. He reached one hand out, hovering an inch in front of the surround-sound Bose stereo system.

 

“Oh my God, dude, this is _sick_. Like, I've literally never seen a stereo like this in my whole life!”

 

I smiled at him, somewhat proud of Emmett's gift for me. “Thank you, it's bluetooth so feel free to play something from it, if you want.”

 

“Oh, shit, really?” He fumbled with pulling his immensely cracked phone out of his pocket. “Wait, I wanna find something that collides with _both_ of our tastes.”

 

His hand hovered over the rack of CDs now, fingers guiding him across the various titles. His eyes widened at the enormity of the selection. I wondered, briefly, what his preferences were. Pushing the hypothetical AUX onto him, it was rather endearing he fretted over finding something we _both_ liked.

 

“You like a lot of rock. And oldies.” His digit lingered over a copy of ‘ _Put Your Head on my Shoulder’. “_ Oh my God, I love this song! It's like, the only Paul Anka song I know, though. You've got every song this dude had ever made.”

 

I shrugged. “I went a bit… _wild_ , shall we say, in the music section when Blockbuster started closing down. Truth be told, I don't even like a majority of his songs.”

 

“Oh.” The wind had been pulled from his sails. “Do you like this, one, though?”

 

“Of course.” I thumbed through the Biology textbook, nodding at him. “It's a classic.”

 

If I were perfectly honest, it still felt like “new” music to me. But who was I to be crotchety? I appreciated innovation and style change in music; save for _some_ eras. I suppressed a shudder.

 

His genuine grin was warming. Scrolling through his phone to find the song, he took a seat next to me on the chaise. The sofa creaked wearily under his weight, and his strangely long ears raised high, then pressed against the sides of his head. The action vaguely reminded me of a frightened hare.

 

“Don't worry, it's handled all my siblings and I before, it can handle two people.” I soothed. In reality, he was probably the weight of Esme and Rosalie combined. Maybe more. But he was cheered by my nonchalance, treating him as if he were just a run-of-the-mill young man. Which he was, in every psychological sense, and deserved to be seen as. A very tall, very muscular young man.

 

Paul Ankas smooth voice carried through the room at a low volume, humming through the textbook. Nicolae crossed his legs and leaned closer to me, trying to peek at the textbook.

 

My efforts to refrain from staring were moot. He was so close, so much cinnamon and spice and everything warm and strangely nice that I couldn't _not_ look up at him, getting a closer look at his features. With his neon eyes cast down at the textbook, I found that I could focus on the other parts of his face.

 

The first thing I noticed were his brows-- they were thick, almost bushy, but well defined. As he scrunched up his face to flip through his own notes, they made him look strangely upset. His nose was long, with a slight, almost unnoticeable hook at the bridge. It led down into a soft cupids bow of his upper lip. His lips were dark pink, and full. They parted ever so slightly as he scanned his own notes. His tongue, bright and pink and soft, took its sweet time as it slowly wet his upper lip.

 

Handsome. He was handsome.

 

The feeling that swelled within me was indescribable. Unfamiliar. Alien. I couldn't find a place for it. It urged my still heart to beat, my lungs to breathe harder, my cold stomach to coil. My body did not-- _could not_ respond to the signals that my mind sent to it, which left me feeling agitated on top of my confusion.

 

I felt Jasper's interest pique from down the hall, and this time the feeling outright refused to be bottled up. Abashed, I focused all my available attention on the task at hand: actually tutoring this boy, and not just staring at his face. A face which was now staring back, nervous with expectation.

 

I mitigated the feeling by talking. "Alright, I suggest we start with the very basics: Cells. What's the last thing you remember in your online homeschool courses?”

 

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

 

“Fair enough-- now, what does that mean?”

 

“Uh.”

 

“That's what I thought.”

 

The session wasn't as arduous for him as I assumed it would be. In an hour, we'd moved onto chapter 2, It took longer to moved to chapter 3; we kept getting distracted along the way. His phone had been set on a playlist, and now moved onto early 2000s pop music. I tried to ignore the mind-numbing melodies.

 

“What is one of your top, and I mean like, _perma-_ favorite, movies?” The book's mention of the _Titanic_ in an example had him distracted again, and I couldn't help but follow along. His eyes were just so eager to hear what I thought.

 

“Hm, I'd have to say Hellboy, actually.” I'd watched it recently with Emmett; it was the only recent movie I could say I genuinely enjoyed, despite it's flaws.

 

“ _Really_ ?! Dude I _love_ Hellboy. I didn't think you'd like that type of movie.”

 

“While I do love the classics, I have to appreciate Hellboy’s attitude. Also, Abe Sapien was some of the best costume design I'd seen in film.”

 

Time both froze and sped forward; it felt like ages that we talked about costumes in movies, about favorite films (his was Disney's Hercules), why award ceremonies were a load of bull, and what it meant to be an actor. At the same time, I could see the shadows cross the room, the light shift through the filter of the afternoon mist into an evening fog. Orange and yellow and reds swam around the room, lighting Nicolaw from the back. The waves of his hair threw the light into disarray; the light formed a soft halo on his face. Tiny orbs of dust caught the light and swirled around in the air of our mingled breaths. They glowed like his eyes.

 

"Your hair looks so red right now," Nicolaw mumbled. I peeked up, rolling my eyes to the ceiling, and saw tinges of bright orange. An open flame of hair. When I rolled my gaze back down, I was blinded by his toothy smile. His teeth glinted in the light, and a single dimple on his left cheek caught the sun and glowed.

 

"And yours is purple." The red tint of the light warmed his cooler roots. He tussled it, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His ears flattened against his head-- embarassed. I recognized the expression from when I complimented his musical talents.

 

"Yeah, my hair is a bit... Different from yours." He tapped his ankle, crossed over his knee. The fur there seemed almost violet in the red light. "Saty-- We have a different color scale for hair. Dad told me my mom's hair was pink. Musta got the tint from her."

 

His voice was so wistful, that without me even thinking, without one iota of forethought, my hand moved to cover his. His warmth was not as severe as before. I'd warmed up to his temperature just sitting beside him.

 

I couldn't even feel aghast at my action. I just wanted, perhaps vainly, to take some of the hurt out of his face. Such a happy, jovial face couldn't look sad. It was _wrong_. And, to my relief, it worked. He allowed a small smile, then a laugh. His free hand moved to pet mine, and I drew back, my hands in my lap.

 

"It's all good. Can't miss someone you don't know, right?" He shrugged, his smile a tad too tight.

 

"I can understand that," I agreed. My voice was tender without me working to make that way. "Being adopted myself."

 

This shouldn't have been news to him-- at this point, in this small town, someone should have informed him of the gossip on the Cullens. Yet he looked surprised.

 

"Oh. You look so much like your folks, I didn't realize. But hey, well, adoptees gotta stick together, right?" His smile was genuine now, and I felt somehow like I'd succeeded.

 

Light footsteps, with all the grace of a ballerina, tapped rhythmically down the hallway. I heard the knock on the door, but couldn't tear my eyes from Nicolae's face. Watching his ears cock up at the sound, and his green eyes dart up was more interesting; I already knew who stood behind the door, after all.

 

“So, how's studying going?” Alice asked as she peeked through the door. All at once, I saw the scene from her point of view. Nicolae leaned toward me, and I towards him, our faces far too close. Inches away.

 

I recoiled immediately, and Nicolae followed suit, coughing into his fist. The space between us felt electric, as if it was trying to draw me back in.

 

Alice smiled smugly. I did my best to ignore her accusatory, blatantly incorrect thoughts. We were merely engaged in conversation, like friends. That was it.

 

“Studying is going swimmingly. We were just discussing the smallest of all organisms-- bacterium. Maybe you can relate.” Her smugness couldn't hold a candle to my sardonic grin. Nicolae snorted.

 

"Oh, cool. Maybe next you can study parasites-- the most ugly of all organisms. After all, you're the expert, Edward."

 

I sneered. She grimaced. Nicolae chortled. It felt like home.

 

"Didn't realize you liked Destiny's Child, Eddie." Alice leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, snickering.

 

"Actually," Nicolae corrected, "this is my sister's Fave Hits playlist. I think it's empowering."

 

“Ah yes, and how empowered you must feel, listening to 90's radio pop songs.” I .

 

“Only the most _incredible era_ of songs,” Alice agreed sagely.

 

My room was turned into a house of laughter in mere minutes as the songs wore on. Mariah Carey, Beyonce, Whitney Houston-- Aurora Wyrming’s playlist was full of catchy female-vocal songs that were easy, even entertaining, to sing along to. It was freeing; with a start, I found that I'd laughed more in the past week than I had ever laughed in the past five decades. At the same time I felt enjoyment, I also felt guilt lay heavy in my chest, dipping low into my stomach. Was I truly deserving of this much joy?

 

Warmth spread through my chest, bubbling in my fingertips and face. Part of the warmth was from Jasper, who mildly peaked in from the door.

 

“It sounds like a pack of hyenas in here, what's going on?”

 

“We're singing, wanna join?” Alice tossed her head back, arcing her neck to peer up at him with love shining golden in her eyes. Jasper slid into the room, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, and the other slinking itself around Alice's waist.

 

“Shouldn't we leave them to studying? Wouldn't want to be the reason Nicolae falls behind, would we?” An echo of his southern drawl came out in the second sentence, tugged out on Nicolae's name. Alice practically melted, and, as usual, I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

 

“Actually,” I added, “We were just wrapping up today's tutoring. If we covered anymore, this would be cram school.”

 

“My brain feels full. It needs to digest a lil’.” Nicolae agreed.

 

The evening had struck far too quickly, and I felt somewhat weary as Nicolae prepared to leave. I could feel the energy from earlier leaving me, dry and strangely tired. With textbooks in hand, his bag slung over his shoulder, he stood on the porch of our house. Rain pattered evenly against the awning.

 

“You comin’ to the beach party, right Ed?”

 

The question hung in the air, illuminated by the lightning that struck behind him. For a second, the world was white with its ferocity.

 

“I'm... Not sure this is the proper weather for a beach party.” A reasonable excuse. Humans would be foolish to go to the beach in this weather.

 

“Oh.” He seemed to have just noticed the weather. His un-observational skills were nothing short of remarkable.

 

Then he turned his eyes down on me, and flashed me a beatific smile. My mind reeled in surprise-- he'd never quite smiled like that before, in all his smiles this past week, or maybe my eyes had never noticed the fullness of his soft, mauve lips stretch over his straight, white teeth. They basked in the leftover glow of the lightning.

 

That electricity between us was back again, pulling me in with full force.

 

“Why don't we go anyway? It'll be like an adventure.” His voice dropped low and sweet, the baritone making my hair stand on end.

 

It felt like my mind was slightly out of place from my being. Like all of my soul was slightly misplaced to the Left of my body. Whether he was being stupid or I was, I suddenly couldn't tell. I was disembodied. The venom that had welled in my mouth earlier disspiated, leaving me dry and disoriented.

 

“Sure,” I heard myself answer. His eyes shimmered, which made my head stir even more. The sensation was familiar, and a small part of me strained to recognize it. It wasn't familiar firsthand, it was an echo of a feeling, something I'd heard in other minds before…

 

Dazzled. I was dazzled. Much in the same way the minds of teenage girls spun when they saw me, this satyr boy had me struggling to speak.

 

How? _Why?_

 

Before I even had time to register the confusion and shame of such a realization, he gave a deep chuckle, and turned off the porch. My legs pulled me forward without my permission.

 

As if on cue, a red Ford pulled into the dirt path, Aurora Wyrming smirking from behind the wheel. He clambered into the truck bed, and beckoned me to the car with a wave of his hand.

 

It was too late to reject the offer. I'd signed the social contract; I had to abide by the rules now. I climbed in the front seat, my chest tight, my head inexplicably warm.

 

One thing pierced my dissociative state; a shriek of a thought.

  
‘ _You bastard, you promised!’_ Alice thought at me.


	7. Liquid Semi-Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward hates parties, which he seems like he would, but likes smash bros

Droplets of rain drizzled onto my face as I peered upward at the lighthouse. They felt almost warm against the sheer coldness of my skin. A shadow crossed over my gaze, and the rain no longer kissed my forehead.

 

“Edward, come on, you're gonna get sick out here.”

 

Nicolae held a magazine over my head with a worried expression. He glanced back to the lighthouse-- judging from the voices, everyone else had already gathered in there.

 

My dissociative episode had come to an end. Now it was time to face the consequences of my idiotic, spur of the moment actions.

 

It was amazing how, whenever I felt even slightly inconvenienced, I tuned the world out effortlessly. With the infinite expanse of attention I had, and practice engaging with humans for decades, running on autopilot was easy. Blocking out thoughts usually went hand-in-hand with blocking out entire sensations as well. It was comfortable, easier to recline into my own thoughts. Moving, but on the inside, still as a statue.

 

It was life that was uncomfortable. It was through other people that I found pain.

 

Nicolae guided me up the steps of the lighthouse, not removing the magazine until I was through the doorway, even when the awning over the steps had me fully covered.

 

Well, through people other than Nicolae. So far, he only instilled uncertainty.

 

‘ _Wow, he looks even hotter when he's all wet like that._ ’

 

‘ _So weird he decided to show up, all of the sudden._ ’

 

‘ _Who invited Cullen? Was it Aurora?_ ’

 

Aurora stared at me, and I saw my face through her eyes and thoughts.

 

‘ _He's looked so… Blank the whole ride here. I feel so awkward… Should I say something?_ ’

 

I rearranged my features into a dignified visage of calmness. She sighed in relief.

 

“Hey Jay! I brought Edward along, since my bro’s been stuck with him.” She stated, no room for question or objection in her tone. Jason Bealls turned to look me over once, then nodded.

 

‘ _Of Aurora says so, I guess I can't say no. As long as he stays to his damn self. Creepy fucker better not mess with Rebeccah._ ’

 

Both my and Nicolae's appearance had disrupted the room, somewhat, but people eagerly returned to their activities, feverish to distract themselves.

 

I had never set foot in the lighthouse; it seemed more like a generic clubhouse, with more amenities than I would have guessed for such a small town. A pool table, foosball board, and ping pong table all lay on one side of the room, with a variety of couches connected to a small kitchen-area on the other. The couches surrounded a rather expansive television, which was occupied by cartoon character fighting each other in a video game. Towards the center of the room was an open stairwell that was littered with intoxicated children.

 

 _Grin and bear it_ , I commanded myself. I'd been through worse. Second-Hand embarrassment was something I could live through, as chagrined as I felt. 

 

And, at least I wasn't alone. Nicolae hunched in on himself in discomfort. His eyes darted around, as if he expected a rebuff at any moment.

 

Aurora slapped a hand on his back and mine.

 

“Alright, two rules, guys. One, don't lose sight of me, and I won't lose sight of you. Two, don't take a drink from _anyone_ unless it's an unopened bottle. _Good_? Good.”

 

She released us and headed over the the pool table, suddenly swarmed by friends. She peered over her shoulder, her eyes laser focused on Nicolae… and I. Genuine concern for both her brother and I, though mostly her brother, colored her thoughts.

 

Nicolae brushed past me, but his warm fingers lingered on my forearm, beckoning me forward. I couldn't meet his eyes. Shame still pooled in my body like fresh blood, and it tried to lock my muscles in place.

 

He was a man. A man who'd had me dazzled, had me reeling, had me breathless. A _man_. No, not a man yet. He was but a boy. Much like me, I suppose. Yet, appearance wise, so much more than that.

 

My feet delivered me to the foosball table alongside him, but my mind still lingered at the door. Maybe I could turn and leave, run into the forest. Turn away from the strange feeling he forced upon me.

 

The world spun. Part of my brain, bless it's Herculean efforts, sat in denial. His charm must have been some sort of power on his part. Maybe the old, forgotten myth of satyr was true; that their charms could whip any man or women into a frenzy. It was considered a superstitious stereotype by most, and it felt bitter to believe, but it was all I had to lean on. It was all I could blame that wasn't myself and my unnatural wants.

 

A boy churning with alcohol slammed into me, ricocheting off and spilling the entirety of his solo cup onto me. I couldn't keep the grim look out of my eyes as I turned to him, still half buried in my thoughts.

 

Ben's addled mind stuttered, and he turned without another word, heading quickly in the opposite direction.

 

“Whoa, dude, you alright?” Nicolae said. I did not meet his gaze.

 

“I'm fine. This is an old jacket anyhow.” And a favorite. It wasn't terribly old, only from the nineties, but I'd purchased the bomber at a Rage Against the Machine concert. Now it smelled heavily of vodka and sprite.

 

I heard cloth slide against skin, and saw a red varsity jacket extended out to me. I bore my eyes into it, rather than looking up.

 

“Here, you can take mine. It's hot in here anyway. I'll put yours in the car.”

 

“I'm fine, really.” My voice came out sterner than I wanted it to be.

 

“But you look cold?” He turned the statement into a question. “Just lemme take your jacket, if anything. You can't just be wearin’ a wet jacket all night.”

 

It was a fair assessment. Which didn't make me feel any less strange peeling off the layer of clothing and handing it to him-- was it because he was watching? Or was it the several girls who ogled my arms and waist from across the room? Both. Definitely both.

 

“Duuuuuuude,” he drawled, “How much do you lift? Your arms are _sharp_ , man.”

 

I could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Tons,” I answered with a dark smirk. Literally.

 

He disappeared to the car, and I relinquished myself to one of the chairs by the television. It felt slightly less cowardly then completely absconding from the party.

 

“Ay, Edward, wanna play a match?”

 

A girl with tanned skin and platinum blond hair leaned forward, holding out a controller to me. I glanced at the screen; the fighting game was unfamiliar to me, but featured several familiar characters.

 

The group on this side of the room, comprised of over thirty different faces, stared at me in a mix of expectation and awe.

 

I felt a pair of arms lean against the back of my chair, and I peered upwards-- Nicolae grinned back down at me.

 

"Ed, you should play a match! I wanna fight you next round."

 

It didn't appear that there was much else to do. And, unlike sports, video games could be played competitively with the humans without any fatalities. That, and the prospect of playing against Nicolae was exciting. I wondered how he fared in competitions.

 

I reached for the multi colored controller with a smile.

 

“Sure.”

 

  
***

 

I had underestimated the tenacity of the human spirit when it came to video games.

 

No one had informed me of the controls, which made for a steep learning curve. Thankfully, the girl's thoughts clued me in on what buttons led to what actions. And while I could read all of her moves the second before she tried them, my character was slower to react than I was. And she was fast-- quick to even go against her _own_ strategy just to corner me. There was even an in game mechanic where my character would trip, and I had to swallow several foul curses every single time. The girl, Aisha, did not take such measures, and was as uncouth as a sailor.

 

It was neck and neck for every game, though I had _just_ won the majority. Ten to nine. Around two minutes each, with the crowd roaring each time. Two other players would cycle in and out, but it became a one on one between her and I each time. Sometime after our third match, I felt the pressure against my chair leave; Nicolae bid me a brief "I'll be back for our match" before disappearing with Aurora.

 

With a smile, she finally removed herself from the couch. I did the same. Time resumed again, and I realized I'd been ensnared by the game for more than half an hour. Hmm. I'd have to see if Emmett was interested in playing such a game. Considering his love of Mortal Kombat, I doubted he'd say no.

 

I recollected myself. Nicolae hadn't returned, and, feeling a little claustrophobic in the mildew-stained room, I set out to find him. 

 

I rose from the couch, head over to the stairwell, and narrowly avoided smashing into the satyr.

 

Automatically, I waited for his blanketing scent to sweep over me and take the edge off the burn in my throat, but the smell of liquor hit me like a battering ram.

 

“Edward!” He threw his arms out in surprise, like I was an old friend he hadn't seen in years. The contents of his solo cup sloshed around, some of it speckling the wooden flooring.

 

I realized my mouth was hanging open. I snapped it shut.

 

“Finally you're done! You were so into it man, your head was really in the game. I need’a-- need’a siddown. Le’s go o’er there.”

 

Before I could resist, his large, warm hand wrapped itself around mine and, with the gentleness of a lamb, guided me back to the couches.

 

There was no way to describe the feeling that burst within me, running from my hand, then up my arm, into my neck, and straight down my spine. He was so warm and soft, everything that my kind wasn't, and everything I hadn't felt in years. My hand felt like it might burn off from the sensation. I could feel every groove in his skin, all radiating a heat that should have melted through the bone.

 

We were sitting now. He hadn't let go of my hand. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to. It made the mildew and sweat and saltwater smells of the building evaporate. The green hued lighting felt warmer, even. Nobody looked, nobody noticed us, nobody cared. In one tense yet thrilling moment, the room was just occupied by Nicolae and I.

 

“Wanna smash?” He smiled devilishly.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“S _mash_ ,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 

My mind stuttered for an entire second. Had he noticed? Had he somehow seen my strange reactions to his smile, did he take it as infatuation, as I--

 

“The game. Smash.” He gestured over to the game on the television. "Our match?"

 

“Ah.” I said dumbly. “I played it so much, I think they'd prefer I take a break.”

 

A misunderstanding. I'd gotten far too wrapped up in possibilities; the illusion of transparency. Of course there was no way to see my thoughts. And my silly infatuation was nothing more than newfound interest in a newfound male comrade. This was comraderie. There was _nothing_ to read there. It was a leftover testament to my human self admiration of older, strong men; soldiers in war, and whatnot. A valor I had longed for. It was just admiration.

 

Self-monitoring my thoughts was tiring. I was glad when Nicolae continually roused me from them.

 

“Awh, maaaan, I'm too late? Dude I totally wanted to play with you, smash is one of the best games ever. Didja win? Whodja main as?”

 

“As in, who did I win as? Mario.” The most familiar character from the roster. I'd played the originals when they had arrived on the scene, but bored quickly of ‘gameboys’; they were fairly trivial toys.

 

“Ya seem more like a Mewtwo man. So… Mysterious.” He waved his hand, wiggling his fingers for effect. "And light."

 

"Light?" I questionned.

 

"Yeah, like I could throw you over my shoulder. Oh-- not in, like, a mean way or anything. You're very slim." His voice sounded genuinely appraising, and I was left genuinely flattered.

 

Our conversation melted into the ins and outs of the video game itself, and I felt myself learning more than I ever had about games than from, say, Emmett. He didn't have this one in his repertoire; perhaps it would makes a nice Christmas gift.

 

“But I like to play King Dedede-- he's a heavyweight, but he hits hard if you wait for jus’ the right moment. Which is practically never, if you fight my sister.” He narrowed his eyes and smiled, as if he was confiding some great secret to me. It was impossible not to smile back.

 

“What exactly are you drinking?” I fought, and lost, against the disapproval that leaked into my tone. Teenage drinking wasn't exactly something that suited him. That, and whatde whatever he drank was more than enough to destroy his inhibition. Liquid courage made him sit spread eagle next to me, his meaty thigh pressing against mine.

 

“Uhhhhm, rum n' coke, I think. Thomas offered me a cup but I didn't see what he poured. Tastes like cough syrup, so it _could_ be robitussin.”

 

I chuckled. "Isn't that exactly what Aurora warned you against? At least _I've_ been following the rules. I didn't figure you were such a rebel, Nicolae."

 

"You know it," he cheered, taking a sip of his drink. "Watch out Ed, I'm the kinda boy your mama warned you 'bout." He waggled his eyebrows, and I snickered into the back of my hand.

 

Sean Khan suddenly swooped from behind the edge of the couch, phone in his extended hand.

 

"Smile, Nicholas!"

 

"That's not my--" Nicolae objected, but the flash of the camera interrupted him. To my surprise, and then dismay, he said nothing as Sean babbled about uploading the picture to twitter before disappearing into the crowd.

 

Nicolae stared down, unsettled, taking light sips from the solo cup he cradled. "A-anyway, it doesn't taste all that bad, thought it'd taste--"

 

“It seems like you go through a lot of effort to appease these kids.”

 

“Hu-What? I mean, no, but-- yeah, but they mean well, and if I didn't… They wouldn't be--You wouldn't understand.” He sighed.

 

I had a thing or two to say to _that_ , but I bit my tongue. That would be for another time. I wasn't his mother, after all. But, I was his tutor. And it felt... unbecoming to not teach him a lesson perhaps more umportant than arithmetic. A lesson I'd seen many fail to learn.

 

“Nicolae," my voice softened to a whisper, a caress, over his name, "You shouldn't let people walk over you; in the end, you'll just give all of your energy to people who don't matter and don't care.”

 

He was silent for a moment. He gazed out to the party, looking befuddled. The bass of some long irrelevant song pulsed the couch. His thigh jostled into mine ever so slightly with each beat. I kept my eyes on him, refusing to stare, as much as my senses begged me to.

 

“Why does it matter to you?” His voice was flatly curious.

 

He was right. Why _did_ it matter to me? Why was it, whenever I saw him pose for a picture in the hallway, force a peace sign and a smile, did it feel like my chest cavity was empty and hollow? Why should it bother me at all? He was temporal. I was immortal. He was seventeen. I was more than a century old.

 

“You're… Nice, and kind. Which are two different things, and your niceness may burn out your kindness one day, and I'd hate to see that happen. You're... my friend, after all.”

 

It was the most sincere I'd let myself be in some time. He seemed taken aback.

 

“Wow. We're… friends?” The last word was brimming with emotion; hope, happiness, and a twinge of something else flashed across his face.

 

“I suppose that's the best way to put it. I truly enjoy you accompanying me. That was… brave of you. Our family is respected, but not liked.”

 

“ _I_ like your family. And I think people are assholes if they're gonna pick on y'all for no reason. Y'all are like, the perfect family, and they're jus’ jealous, honestly.”

 

“Haha, why don't you defend yourself like that? You seem more protective of others than yourself.”

 

“It's different though. You guys are nice, you didn't do anything.”

 

He looked down pointedly, and I could feel the conversation turn South. I smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“That's a fairly large assumption. And what, pray tell, have you done? And bodies I should know about?” My voice flattened at the mention of _bodies_. He didn't seem to notice.

 

He lightly shoved my shoulder, smirking back at me. “ _So_ many bodies. S’what my house is made of. How'd you know?”

 

“I suppose now you'll have to kill me, too.”

 

“You know too much, Edward.” Hearing my name on his tongue sent an electric current across my skin. So did his deep-throated chuckle.

 

“So what have you done wrong?”

 

His glazed eyes turned sharp and aware for a split moment. His toothy smile tightened. Something, either far away or long ago, flashed across his eyes.

 

“I… _existed,_ I guess _._ "

 

Nicolae's face fell flat, unreadable. He blinked once, twice-- was he fighting tears?

We didn't speak for a long moment. Chagrin bit my tongue back; I'd said too much, too soon. But I did learn one new thing about the boy next to me.

 

He was terrified. He was broken-hearted. He hated himself; I could hear all of this from the seething emotion behind his words. I wondered what “traumatic” event Esme had referred to regarding his seclusion. What had this boy been through, what had he seen?

 

I had to know. I leaned forward, and to my surprise, and even hurt, he leaned back.

 

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom” He said, breaking the silence. The only assurance I had that I'd been completely terrible was the light pat he gave to my leg before he rose.

 

“I'll be right here,” I added with a soft chuckle. God, I was being a monster. Berating him and questioning him into a corner. Drudging up memories he'd rather forget. I understood that feeling only too well. I'd be lucky if he came back at all.

 

Sixteen minutes of self-deprecating thoughts later, and several one-worded conversations with drunken, dancing passerby, Aurora caught me by the shoulder. Her knuckles were pink from her grip, though I couldn't feel the pressure.

 

I cast one look at her face-- it looked _terrified_. Her large blue eyes, unusual for a black girl, looked like they were about to water over.

 

“Where is Nicolae.” Her voice was breathless,  not even turning the statement into a question. I rummaged through her frantic thoughts; she'd been searching for him after he had left the bathroom, up and down the entire lighthouse. This wouldn't have bothered me if it weren't for the fact he should stick out from more than a mile away.

 

Panic crept up my spine and settled deep into my bones.

 

“I don't know.”


	8. A Rising Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward gets a fuckin boner, and does NOT know how to deal

I listened in on every thought I could manage to hear around the lighthouse, any clue as to where he was, with sudden desperation.

 

‘ _Did she just hang up on me, I can't believe--_ ’

 

‘ _This rum and coke tastes like fucking ass, man--_ ’

 

‘ _I gotta tell Rachel I can't make prom this year--_ ’

 

Every insignificant thought poured into me, filling me with every useless fact that I'd barricaded myself from all evening. I watched as Aurora's expression grew more and more panicked, her eyes wide and watery and helpless, while I stood and silently monitored every thought in the building.

 

“He's supposed to be in my line of sight, he knows that. I haven't seen him in a whole half an hour, and he's not in the mens bathroom, and he hasn't texted me, and Jay is being really cagey about where he went."Her face was unreadable despite the terror in her thoughts and tone. The only sign of fear was in her downcast eyes, wide and unseeing. Visions of Nicolae being kidnapped, tormented, shot at, or humiliated ran through her mind in an instant.

 

A flash of an instinct washed through me. I wanted to hold her, to touch her shoulder  hold her hand, show some manner of affection and let her know everything would be alright. Her pained face looked so much like Alice’s, in a way. It was a cruel twist of fate for those features to be twisted in sadness.

 

But I was cold, and inhuman, and she was warm and sensitive. I could not touch her, only lean forward, palms open, and whisper in reassuring tones. “None of this is your fault, Aurora. Nobody's going to try and take advantage of him, he's built like a linebacker. Worst case scenario, he's just lost outside.”

 

We both knew that wasn't the worst case scenario. It was a hopeful thought, and she clung to it. Better than the alternative.

 

“Help me find him, please. Let's split up.” She offered. “I'll check upstairs.”

 

We could cover more area if we separated, but it felt wrong to leave her. She looked at me balefully, realizing my sentiment from the twitch of my mouth. Perceptive, surprisingly so for a human.

 

“I'll be fine, _I_ know how to handle myself around these people. It's him I worry about.”

 

‘A _nd you look like too much of a serial killer for anyone to bother fucking with_.’

 

 _Very_ perceptive.

 

As she climbed the stairs, I took to the outside. I'd expected fresh air to greet me, finally freeing me of the cramped smell of sweat, mildew, and hormones.

 

Instead, a dank smell enveloped me. Marijuana, low and pressurized from the overhanging air of the storm. I coughed lightly, feeling the smoke scrape my lungs. It wasn't as if it harmed me, but the cloying feeling was uncomfortable at best, and painful at worst.

 

As I swept my eyes out and over the porch, I saw him. Relief, more than I'd anticipated, washed through me.

 

There he was, standing tall, lean, and glistening from the rain that slanted off the awning. A joint lightly held by his lips, and the red light of a nearby match illuminating his profile and musculature in a way that made him look like a fantasy novel wet dream. He stood amongst a gaggle of other students; some of them I recognized as the less-than-savory boys from Aurora's fears for Nicolae. Rather than fill with surprise, or anger, or any emotion a regular, upstanding man would feel, I paid them no heed. I was filled with _wonder_.

 

My body reacted in a way I'd never felt before. Even in the midst of the feeling, it was impossible to describe. It was as if my skin was a live wire, as if my body was a magnet. I'd only realized that I had walked right over to him when my arm brushed his. I hadn't even registered my movement.

 

He hadn't noticed me. No one in the circle had.

 

“Breathe in fully, hold it in your mouth, and then inhale what's in your mouth really quickly. Then slowly, _real slow,_  breathe it out.” Jason Bealls ran him through the steps of smoking as patronizing as if he were talking to a handicapped child.

 

I opened my mouth to object, to say anything, but Nicolae obeyed and I couldn't help but watch in sick fascination as ephemeral smoke whirled around his face, some billowing from the corners of his mouth.

 

A memory, suddenly fresh and ripened by the image before me, had me speechless. I'd once, in my youth, found a small obsession with the image, the iconographic silhouette, of men smoking on banisters in dramatic lighting. The image conjured up emotions so mysterious and masculine, I'd even tried smoking one of my father's cigars, only to be nearly suffocated by the fumes, and then nearly crushed by my mothers guilt. I'd sworn off the stuff afterward. But the fascination remained.

 

Even after I'd learned, in this immortal life, that it was just a haphazard habit of humans, Nicolae's stoic, smoking silhouette in the stormy twilight was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen, and probably ever would.

 

I couldn't stop myself. I gasped.

 

His green eyes, glinting orange from the glow of his joint, flashed to me.

 

Surprise took his features first, and then panic rushed right in. In a split second, pain absorbed all of them, and he was doubled over, coughing out stacks of smoke like a chimney. He hacked with enough force that he fell to his knees, digging his hands into the dirt. The circle of boys immediately broke into a jeer.

 

“Slowly, slowly dumbass!”

 

“Holy fuck, did he swallow it?”

 

Elijah Bose, a somewhat kinder invididual, clapped Nicolae on the back. “Dude, you're good, you're okay, just try and breathe it out.”

 

Nicolae responded by gagging helplessly. He raised his hand in a familiar gesture: the three fingers and single circle of 'OK'.

 

My mind still lingered on his visage, moments before he choked, where the mere gaze of him sent me flying. I was only half present, only vaguely aware when Jason grabbed my shoulder. I heard his internal surprise at the firmness of my musculature.

 

“Edward, can you help get him some water?”

 

He'd only gotten halfway through his sentence before I hoisted Nicolae up by his waist, much to the latter’s dismay, and helped him into the lighthouse once more.

 

He was soft, despite his brawn. It made me feel less averse to touching him; he meshed perfectly into my arms. People ducked immediately out of my way as I stormed inside, and Nicolae wrought himself up, trying to appear as if he was walking by my side rather than being dragged in.

 

“Drink,” I instructed, holding a cup of water up to his lips.

 

He shook his head, still coughing. I gave him a minute, and when the hacking died down, I offered it again.

 

We sat on the bottom of the stairs, him nestled into the corner to minimize his space. He took light sips of the water, burping every now and then, and apologizing profusely each time.

 

Beyond his weak “I'm sorry” and “excuse me's", there was a gap of silence between us. I was the first to break it.

 

“I'm not gonna say I told you so, but, well,” I shrugged. "Told you so. Stop trying to please people and seem like you're _cool_."

 

He coughed out a laugh.

 

"Implying I'm not cool." His head bobbed forward, and I caught him with my shoulder. He nestled there, oddly comfortable with my stony build. I selfishly welcomed the sensation.

 

“I think we both learned something from this.” I learned how similar he was to the manly figures I'd idolized in my past. He'd hopefully learned something of peer pressure.

 

Nicolae dipped his head deeper into my shoulder. Were I a weaker man, I'd have leaned my head atop his.

 

“How are you feeling? Do you need more water?”

 

He shook his head. “‘M fine.”

 

“That's good. I'm sure Aurora would go into cardiac arrest if she saw how you were outside.” I glanced up the stairway, and could hear her tiny footfalls begin to descend. I lowered my voice to a whisper.

 

"Nah, she smokes too. She'd be mad I went without her though, I'll bet a million she will."

 

“Is that right? I guess there's no helping it, then. Maybe we'll all smoke together, next time.” I smiled, imagining the futility of _me_ smoking. I wondered if they'd take me for a heavyweight, or if I ought to feign being stoned.

 

He stared at me, eyes soft and red and watery with emotion. I smiled, and pat his leg, reassuring him. He was fine. Safe. This was all a part of growing up; new aquaintances and dumb mistakes. I found that, almost childishly, I was glad _my_ newfound friend wasnt harmed.

 

“Edward?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You're a good dude.”

 

There was another minute of comfortable silence.

 

“Edward?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I think I'm really high right now.”

 

“Isn't this your first time smoking? How would _you_ know?” I teased. It felt natural to tease him. To laugh at this situation I never would have thought to find myself in, with a boy I'd only known for a week.

 

He giggled. I smiled with him.

 

“I can't feel my legs ‘n also like. I dunno. Everything feels floaty and heavy at the same time. Dunno if I can stand up.”

 

His giggles turned into light laughter as he leaned on me, and all of the sudden we were just two teenagers at a stupid party in a rundown lighthouse. I wasn't over a century old, nor a vampire, nor immortal, and he wasn't a towering satyr with the horns and tail of a demon. We weren't anything in that moment save for two adolescents leaning on one another, laughing. It felt right, easy, _wholesome_ even. The way life ought to be. His scent hummed in my head, lingered there, though it was coated with smoke.

 

“Can I touch your hair?" He asked, his voice strangely curious. As if my hair was more of an enigma than he was. I briefly cobtemplated how I would react, and, perhaps due to the easygoing atmosphere, decided it was fine. More than fine, even.

 

“Yeah, sure.” I struggled to keep my tone as casual as his.

 

Strong, tanned fingers loosely played with a lock of hair, and tucked it behind my ear. I shivered into the caress, and then felt immediately abashed for doing so.

 

“Ed, you're like, _stupid_ pretty. I mean, like absurdly pretty, for a dude. You look like a doll.”

 

His hand moved up to caress my roots. Another shiver rocked my spine, and I cursed myself for feeling a rush of pleasure when he tenderly massaged my temples with his fingertips.

 

Or, even worse, the thrill I had with him calling me pretty.

 

“Thank you, you're also very… very nice looking.” I had no idea why I felt the urge to compliment him back, and even less why I complied without a second thought. The words tumbled out my mouth. Maybe the atmosphere was getting to me.

 

“Tha's gay.” He mused, giggling again.

 

 _Tactful_. Was he wrong, though? The atmosphere felt homoerotic. Rather, everything felt homoerotic. It was simply admiration, I insisted, it was just a compliment on my part. He was just so manly and handsome, I couldn't help but notice. Just as Emmett had once boldly admired Marlon Brando for his attractiveness. Completely platonic.

 

“It's okay, though, gay’s good.” He nodded to himself; it was more of a sideways flop of his head. “I think like, half the school would go gay for you, to be hones’. Maybe we're all kinda gay, though? That's what Aury says, all the time, and I get it. People be like, 'oh, I'm not gay, I'd never be gay, thats gross', and I'm just like, does anyone really know? I mean, I never deny it. I'm gay as _fuuuuuuck_.”

 

My dead heart lurched forward in my chest. I didn't want to think about this right now. I couldn't afford to. Aurora was taking her sweet time coming down the stairs.

 

He continued to groggily discuss sexuality, and I followed along with rapt attention. His drunken, stoned rambling was charming; it was like his sober rambling, but he would lose track of what he was saying after every other sentence, and I would unfailingly remind him, every time, to which he, _every_ time, would thank me with a smile and a laugh and the tipping back of his head. He was handsome and free and watching him, talking to him, I felt a little closer to those two ideas than before.

 

“Sometimes, guys jus’ be handsome, and like, it's natural to find handsome dudes handsome, right? Like, to deny it, you have too much pride and too low self-respect to be able to own up and say a dude is hot. For example: Ta be honest, I always thought Keanu Reeves was really hot.”

 

I recalled the Matrix movie rerun in Theory of Knowledge a few days ago, and had to solemnly agree. He was ‘ _hot_ ’, in a strange and lucrative way.

 

“No, I get that,” I added, nodding, “but I'd say it's just aesthetic appreciation. Why would evolution select for a sexual interest that doesn't inherently support propogation of the species?”

 

Nicolae looked at me, eyes suddenly filled with confusion. The corners of his mouth were traced with the lines of hurt.

 

“Hm. I guess it's easy for you to say-- you're just so pretty, I bet people always fall in love with you. Maybe you're jus’... desensitized. And maybe you need a lil' more faith in love. Things are about more than just... poppin' babies.”

 

There was a lot to unpack there, for both him _and_ I. I grappled with the first sentence, mostly.

 

Did he really find me so attractive? I stopped that thought right in its tracks. I _ought_ not to care about that. Why did it concern me, whatsoever, if he found me attractive? That was just more wood for the fire. Now was not the place, nor the time. Right now, he was just the _aesthetically_ attractive Nicolae Wyrming. A gentle, new friend, who made some mistakes today and was currently intoxicated. A friend that I was growing dangerously close to. Right now, I was the astute Edward Cullen that Carlisle believed I could be, that Esme saw me as, that my mother knew me to be: a classmate, a tutor, a friend--

 

Aurora was at the foot of the stairs then, her arms wrapped around Nicolae. Her soft demeanor belied her has tone.

 

“Next time you disappear on me like that, _tell me_ where you're going. I forreal thought you got abducted.”

 

“Aury, I'm three hundred poun--”

 

“Shut _up._  I don't wanna hear it. I know damn well how gullible you are. Someone could lure you in a white van with a candy bar and a hug.”

 

He rolled his eyes. I laughed. From what I'd seen of him, it was probably true. He was so soft, malleable, naive.

 

 _Cute_ , the thought begged again, _He's cute_. I shushed it.

 

We left the party early, by the partygoers standards. People threw Aurora into one-armed hugs, asking her to stay, saying their goodbyes, wishing she'd be there longer. She kissed her goodbyes, honey-like words of promises dripping of her tongue with a cheery giggle. I could see why she was popular. She was like her brother, or rather, her brother was like her. They radiated warmth and easygoing vibes. But her optimism came from a since of inherent self-worth; she did not need their approval as much as they desired hers. I smirked. Perhaps I was witnessing the birth of a future celebrity.

 

Even Nicolae had people clap their hands on his back, bidding him adieu. Were he sober, the interaction would've probably left him ecstatic. Instead, he stared dumbly at them, smiling only after they'd left. It was a relatable expression.

 

One girl, with particularly perverse and unladylike thoughts, felt up his arm as she, according to her peers thoughts “ _bravely_ ” bid him goodbye. _His biceps are huge_ , she thought, _I wonder what else is_. I desperately wanted to peel her off him, peel all onlookers off him, to protect him from her fetishizing thoughts. He was too kind, too good, for this girl to cling to him and treat him like some sort of object.

 

But I was a gentleman, and bid her off with a quick and blunt “excuse us”. She was immediately flustered by my presence, and quickly rejoined her friends, babbling about how _Edward Cullen had talked to her._ I sighed.

 

No one bid me farewell. Some thought about it, but decided against it, instead kindling their fear of my kind.

 

On the walk to the truck, I held Nicolae up by his arm; he was leaning heavily to the side, causing his knees to wobble. I didn't want him to fall. Surely, that was the only reason I held him so tightly around his upper arm. I ignored the way his bicep, admittedly _huge_ , felt under my hands. Even with my pianist fingers, they couldn't reach even halfway around. But for my own sanity and pride, I did my best to ignore it. Otherwise, I was no better than that girl. It did me a small favor to see how comfortable he was in my hold, compared to the distinct discomfort he had shown when she had touched him.

 

And my God, his bicep was large. I could feel the strength behind his arm as he pulled himself upward, the little contractions tugging smoothly under my hand. Yet soft, with a light layer of fat that made it a comfortable hold. A softness I both envied and... found impossible to let go of.

 

It was a long walk to the car.

 

“Did ya have fun, Edward?” Aurora asked as she and I helped pack Nicolae into the backseat of the car. The bed of the truck had become to wet and slippery for him to cling to.

 

“In a way,” I admitted.

 

“In Alaska, did you ever gone to a party before?” Nicolae piped up, folding himself like a chair into the furthest seat.

 

Did Irina’s faux birthday count? Her human “boytoy” at the time had been there, so it had been a relatively mundane gathering. Every “party” I'd ever been to had been like that, mundane, opulent, family-oriented. No presence of children grinding to over-tuned, bass-boosted drivel.

 

“Not one like this, no.” The bass still shook the ground, though the lighthouse was a good quarter mile away. “But I'm always open to new experiences. They build character, as my father likes to say.” I smiled, recalling Carlisle’s pride when I mentioned I'd made an acquaintance. New experiences indeed.

 

“Funny,” she chimed, “My dad says the same thing. But I doubt he's talking about stuff like this.”

 

“Twerking builds character, too.” Nicolae echoed from the backseat, and we all laughed.

 

Easy, again. We kept making jokes even as we crammed into the car, me sitting, or squishing myself, next to Nicolae to make sure he didn't get carsick. Aurora pulled out of the sand path, and on the way to my house.

 

“You should come over to my house next weekend, we have smash.” Nicolae offered.

 

“I'm supposed to be tutoring you, aren't I? Unless you're taking a class in Smash bros, that is.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Man, whatever, my grades’ll be fine.” He leaned against the door, trying to get comfortable in the small space. I leaned opposite of him; it felt like we were seated at a table, directly across from one another.

 

“I'd love to play a match against you, Nicolae.”

 

He laughed, then. His green eyes, rimmed with red, sparkled in the dark. My breath caught in my throat.

 

“You can just call me Nico."

 

I grinned without effort. Without a sense of trying to hide my teeth.

 

"Nico." The name rolled off my tongue eith a unique flavor. It was exciting to say. Like I had learned the secret word to enter a new and strange organization.

 

Aurora turned around the bend, and Nicolae fell with the momentum, his inertia bringing his head straight to meet the zipper of my pants.

 

He made a soft grunt, and his soft, full, pinkened pouted lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. There was no pain, no discomfort. Just shock. And something else _entirely_.

 

At that moment, as time slowed, three things occurred.

 

First; Venom welled in my mouth, stinging my saliva glands in its production.

 

Second, I clutched the sides of the seats in sudden alarm, ripping solid chunks of cloth and stuffing fiber in both hands.

 

And lastly, the worst of all: My pants grew tighter.

 

Every frozen cell in my ice-cold body screamed in response, and it took all my self control not to turn, break through the window, and run across the riverbank until I drowned in the ocean. I wanted to flee, to jump, to hide, to shout, and most of all, I wished I could die. The embarrassment and shock and confusion boiled in me, threatening to spill over.

 

In reality, I clutched my hands over my zipper and crossed my legs. It was the most I could afford myself to do.

 

What was he doing to me? Was this some sort of sick spell that satyr possessed? I couldn't fathom why _now,_ why _me_ , why his lips looked so soft and why he decided to bite into the lower one in that moment. Years of meticulous self-control, and yet I was about to expend all of them in an effort to control--

 

‘ _Lust?_ ’ The confused thought rung in my ears, echoing like a cuss in an empty cathedral.

 

I cringed at the word. Yet it was the perfect descriptor.

 

“Oh shit, oh shit shit I'm so fuckin’ sorry, I've got no seatbelt on, is your, are your-- your balls okay, dude?”

 

They were more than okay. I stared blankly at him, jaw slack.

 

The truck came to a stall. Lights cut into my vision from beyond the dashboard-- the lights of my house. We were here.

 

“Wooly, you suckin’ dick back there or what?” Aurora laughed. I appreciated that she was trying to aleve the situation through brazen  humor. But I knew, very well, that my family could hear her from this distance, and my urge to implode only grew stronger.

 

I was beyond words. I was beyond basic, functional social norms.

 

“Aury, you know I would never. I have to take him on a date, first.” He laughed. She laughed. It took me an entire minute to understand he was joking. It was a joke. Ha ha.

 

The laugh I gave sounded like a strangled cough, and before I could hear or deal or _see_ anymore of _this_ , before Nico could even notice the rising problem that was my groin, I unlocked the car door and left.

 

“Thank you for the ride.” I threw the words behind me like grenade, and left, walking straight into the woods opposite of my house.

 

I ignored the blatant confusion behind me, waited in the trees until I heard the engine turn away, and then ran full speed into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in three parts over the course of a week, and i reread it this morning and couldn't remember writing ANY of this, so here it is :')


	9. End of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which nicolae shares his view of the nights events

“Nicolae.”

  
It took two entire eons for my disembodied head to lift and face Aurora.

  
She never used my full name. Not unless I was in some serious shit. The gravity of the word washed over me, feeling heavy on my skin. The tension of the atmosphere was slow, building inside of me with every passing wave.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“You're high.”

  
I snorted.

  
“No, just tipsy.”

  
“ _Oh?_ ”

  
I could feel the smile break across my face, without my control, which only boosted my anxiety. I knew I looked high as shit.

  
“... Mayhaps.”

  
“Bet you choked, didn't you.” She sounded like a disappointed parent.

  
“And? What about it?” I couldn't help the snicker that escaped me, low and stupid sounding.

  
" _Ha_! Nico I told you not to walk off without letting me know." My ear cocked of its own accord; I could hear her teeth grind. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, which struck me as odd. She usually drove with one hand and a knee.

 

"You're mad at me, Aury. I knew you'd be mad."

 

"I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at--"

 

"--The situation, I know." It was her own proverb at this point. I had heard the mantra since I was ten. "I have to admit, the situation got a bit... _fucky_. But I'm new to this."

  
We laughed. We sighed.

  
"You know," she admitted, her tone softer, "I got that from a movie. A mom said it to her daughter whenever she did something dumb."

  
There was so much I wanted to say to that; about how she didn't have to be the mom, how that role was absent from our lives, and perhaps always would be, and that was fine. It was fine. We were fine.

  
"You're my sister," I ended up saying. The words sounded like sludge.

  
"Yep. And the very best." She laughed with fake haughtiness. I couldn't argue there.

 

I had some vague idea of how I'd disappointed her. Well, vague was an understatement. I had activated the consequence she had warned me of for _years_ \-- ever since I begged to go to school. Trying to look and act cool with the upperclassmen had landed me sauced in the backseat of Aurora's truck. I could feel tension roll off her in waves. But I was a little too numb to fully understand exactly why. The night was lazily rolling within me.

  
White teeth, with a slight overbite, bit into a full bottom lip, dragging off a line of her favorite NYX lipstick. It stained her teeth red.

  
"Just don't wander off next time, okay?" Her eyes cast downward for just a second. Almost like she was scared. It was a face she didn't make often, but the few times she had were burned into my memory. I was suddenly eight again, and she nine, her face blankly terrified as I stepped into the kitchen and--

  
"So what were you talking to Cullen about on the stairs? You were leaning, like, an inch away from his face. I honestly thought y'all were about to make out-- I couldn't tell if you needed some private time or not."

  
I was **that** close? I racked my brain, but couldn't recall being that close-- all I remembered was his pale, sharp face swimming in my vision, encompassing all of-- Oh.

  
"Actually, now thatcha bring it up, a _lot_ happened."

 

> ***

 

  
Dad must have been upstairs and asleep when we tumbled in. All the lights were off, and the house air was silent and still, save for the roar of the AC.

  
It was our saving grace, muffling Aurora's gasps and my snorts as we tried to stifle our laughter.

  
“Shut up, _shut up_!” Aurora hissed, and with the way she doubled over, biting her lip and squeezing her eyed to hold in giggles, I couldn't tell if she directed that at herself or me.

  
“I'm serious, though!”

  
“You really said that? You really, _actually_ said that?"

  
"I was, like, far drunker, and higher, than I am right now. I just felt like, 'oh, he's here, babysittin' me, and probably gay, let's try and relate!' and then I absolutely failed."

 

"You were trynna score "woke" points with a repressed albino twink. Oh my fuckin' God. I'm gonna tell this to my grandkids." She hissed with laughter again, smacking me against my arm, and I smacked her back to quiet her.

 

"He's not a twink! I mean, he kinda looks like one, but he explained that he's not gay at all."

 

Aury rolled her eyes, leading me up the stairs as quietly as we could manage. I, naturally, ended up being way louder.

 

"Listen. Everyone's a little gay. And that boy's a **lot** of gay."

 

We turned down the right of the hallway, and into my room. I swerved around the couch I'd dragged in there long ago, specifically for Aury, and immediately crashed onto my bed. The two quilted comforters and fluffy throw blanket threatened to absorb me and hold me eternally, and I almost forgot I was apart of a conversation until Aury continued.

 

"But in all seriousness, just curious: do you like him?"

 

A bold question. A big question. One I didn't have an answer for. All I could think of was how smooth his hair felt under my hand, how black his eyes turned in the dark, and how he didn't look my in the eye for more than a second the whole night.

 

"No. He's just, like, a really interesting and nice guy. I really wanna be his friend."

 

"Okay. Cause it seems like he really likes you."

 

I lifted my face from the warm comfort of my blanket.

 

"Huh?"

 

"I mean like, you need to see the way he was looking at you though. He was looking at you like you were Jesus and he was at church. It was wild."

 

My laughs were muffled by the blanket. I shook my head, rolling onto my back.

 

"I honestly think he's straight. He seemed a little, like, homophobic even. It was super awkward."

 

"Homophobic? How so?" Her eyes narrowed into slits.

 

Hm. I didn't know how to take back what I said, now that it was out in the open, but neither did I want Aury to think of him badly. If I was gonna bring him over, she oughta like him. And I wanted to like him too.

 

"Well, not _homophobic_ per se, but like. One of those people who tolerates, but doesn't understand, you know? Or uh, doesn't understand, but they're okay with it, I guess."

 

It sounded like bullshit, and that's because it was. But it was perhaps the best bullshit I could offer to cover for him.

 

Aury digested this, folding her legs into a neat little criss-cross on the recliner and tapping her nails along her knee. She hummed a dramatic, exaggerated " _hmm_ " to herself as she thought.

 

"I think," She stated after four minutes of humming contemplation, "that his family's probably progressively religious, and that's why he sees things that way. He probably is rejecting the gay part of him because he can't fathom it, but he can't _fathom_ it because he was taught to tolerate gayness as a strange occurrence, not accept it as a possobility. That's a lot of folks, not in this town specifically, but more to the North. They came from Alaska, right?"

 

I nodded. "He mentioned they lived in Portland for a little while too."

 

"Ah! There you go. The tolerance had to come from Portland, but the conservativeness is probably from, like, rural Alaska."

 

It made sense. More than that, it painted an identical picture of his home life for me. There was a lot of religious memorabilia as I passed through the hallways-- more crucifixes and rosaries than I'd seen outside of a cathedral. There was a heavy religious energy in that home.

 

But, and maybe it was my inebriated brain, something seemed off about the theory. Because I couldn't remember a single cross, rosary, or emblem in Edward's room.

 

I tried to trace back to the house, tried to visualize if there was anything religious in his room; yet down to the way he spoke, he didn't seem religious, or spiritual, at all... His rejection seemed to come from a place of science. Evolution and stuff. 'Unnatural', he had said. Saying such mean things, all while his legs pressed against mine and his face floated fantastically close to mine. The memory made my hair rise, my skin itch, my heart wring.

 

"Nico, you good?" Aurora leaned forward drom the recliner, alert.

 

"Huh? Uh, yeah, why?"

 

"Your tail, it's doing the stress-thing." She pointed at it, and it was then I noticed the end was hitting the bed with slow, even thumps. "You mad?"

 

It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. But the more I tried to let it go, the angrier I felt. It wasn't like his comment was a personal attack, but the idea behind his words held a sense of bigotry I couldn't just shake off. If he felt that way about gay people, it only led to a thought I really didn't want to have.

 

What did he think about _me_? Was he just tolerating me? Was I just a test of his political-correctness, a pity-case for him to feel better about being nice to? I'd drunkenly complimented him throughout the bight, and he barely met my eyes every time. He returned each compliment half-heartedly, and was so blunt, so angry-feeling the whole night... It made my heart twist in my chest. I had to grab my tail to stop it's heated slaps against the bed post. If I didn't stop my train of thought, I'd end up accidentally breaking it. Again.

 

"Monica called you cute," Aurora added, "after you played foosball with us."

 

"Oh!" I immeduately felt embarassed, excited, and still a little flustered. "What? Really? Tell me exactly what she said."

 

In the comfort of my covers, I listened to Aurora animatedly recreate the scene of the lighthouse floor. Monica Appendi, with her arm lazily draped across Aurora's shoulders, hugged her close for a whisper in her ear: "Your brother is way hotter than I thought he'd be."

 

Aury shivered in mock disgust, rolling her eyes. I shivered too; I couldn't tell if it was from how uneasy the comment made me, or how embarassed I felt. Probably both.

 

Our conversation lengthened into a banter of who's hot, who's not within the school populace, even reaching over to next door schools. Aury held Rosalie Cullen and Samantha Wells as the hottest in the school; I myself, with some prodding, admitted that Rosalie _and_ her bodybuilder boyfriend were pretty cute. We went on, talking about her first week back, my first week at all, and every ounce of drama in the school that I could, now, thankfully, put a face to. At one point, we were talking with our eyes closed, only opening for a few seconds at a time.

 

"A'ight," she finally said, swinging her legs off the recliner, "I'm going to sleep in my own bed. G'night, Nico."

 

"Gn'eye." I mumbled. My eyes were glued shut. My lips were almost there.

 

"Love ya." The door creaked to a soft close. Dainty footsteps crossed down the hall, leading to another door across mine. Opened, closed. Then complete silence.

 

"Luv ya too."

 

My brain was sludge at this point. Sleep had my brain in a chokehold.Without Aurora's presence, I felt free to stirp off my shirt and thtow it to the hamper's corner. I lolled under my covers, tugging them over me half-heartededly. My hooves lay out and unprotected, but I was too tired to care. I half-wrestled off my pants, preferring to sleep as close to nude as I could.

 

Drowsily, right before blackness took me, I thought of Edward Cullen's too-soft red hair beneath my fingertips.


	10. Frozen Hearts, Warm Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward deals with frustrations about being The Gay, and acts a fool

The eyes of a thousand birch trees glowered me into the ground on my run.

 

I tried to focus only on the trail ahead of me . Tried to focus on the crunch of autumn leaves underneath me, the rich browns and orange and reds that paved the forest floor--

 

“ _The red and orange and green of the trees, and the fog is all... It's just so mysterious and cool.”_

 

Damn.

 

Every thought was tainted with flashes of him. His smell, his silhouette, the cadence of his voice; I passed by a babbling brook that chuckled with his deep laugh, and nearly _flinched_. The forest assaulted me with visuals, so I ran. I ran to the first opening I saw, a break in the treeline little more than a hundred yards ahead.

 

Deer scattered from the small meadow as I bounded in, my feet flying over a patch of morning glories. I sank into dew covered clovers, thankful for the deer. Their scent muddled that of the grass, which would have just brought me back to thinking about--

 

I stopped myself. Meditation was what I needed now, as petulant as it sounded. Anything to empty my mind, to calm down, before I could take a step into my house again.

 

My mind flashed to the Sol Suc river, the image of its frozen waters in winter. Gone were the deep reds of Autumn, and the vibrant green of the northwest. Instead, everything was cool tones of gray. Crystals of ice embellished the leaves and ferns along the river. The water slowed to a crawl, frozen in some parts, barely running in others. Time itself stood at a standstill, frozen by winter's time.

 

Frozen. Perhaps that was why I both hated and favored the season.

 

Eventually, through it felt like an eternity later, things did calm themselves. I wasn't refreshed, though I felt stable. Braver. Able to tackle the thoughts that currently plagued me with a more logical frame of mind.

 

I paced. My thoughts synced together smoothly when I was in motion. The pacing was aimless; I barely noticed the ground as I stared at it, contemplating.

 

Was I jealous?

 

The notion explained why I sometimes stared at his figure with burning intensity, felt abashed when I came face to face with his musculature. When I'd first met Emmett, it was similar. There was some… _shift_ in the way I felt when he de-robed. Some abashment on my part that left me fewling less than wholesome.

 

Perhaps because I would forever remain boyish. A lad. I'd never felt any dismay over it before, though maybe now my feelings had taken a turn. Maybe seeing someone so hulking and masculine made me feverish with… With...

 

But I'd _felt_ jealousy before, seen it through the minds of many, and it was a mere candle flame next to the bonfire of emotion that seared me.

 

That, and jealousy didn't explain the growing situation down south. I cupped my trousers uncomfortably, and allowed my thoughts to cross where I didn't dare want them to travel.

 

Was it _attraction_?

 

My pants pulsed. It was an obvious question, with an even more obvious answer. I hated it all the same. Resented myself for knowing full well what the answer was.

 

It was useless to beat around the bush, as it were. He _was_ attractive, in so many strange and exciting and downright _terrifying_ ways, ways I couldn't understand and didn't _want_ to understand. His body, his smile, his warmth, his laugh; it made me feverish with desire. Desire for what, I hadn't the faintest clue.

 

The jealousy fit in better, in retrospect, to others behavior around him. It wasn't just I who noticed his attractiveness. Some human females had started to warm up to him, like the one from this very night. His foreboding appearance, the lust of a sense of danger; it wasn't unlike when those same girls had been infatuated with my brothers and I.

 

Women. Girls. No boys had felt that way. Not a single man's thoughts at the school rung out with desire for Nicolae.

 

Only me.

 

 **Unnatural**. The word burned into my skin, branding me. I felt distant now, from my family and myself and my own upbringing from my mother Elizabeth, who'd simply wanted me to settle down with a nice girl in Chicago.

 

This was the final nail in the coffin. I'd failed her in every possible way.

 

I could only imagine Esme’s sentiment. And Carlisle’s, my Catholic father. I had disappointed two entire sets of parents in one, and would make a mockery of myself in the process. I was besmirched, smitten, and woefully, miserably attracted to a man. I knew the signs. I knew the symptoms. To deny this and these to myself would be foolish, and I was certainly crazed, but I was no fool. I had a crush. On a man.

 

A man. The truth floored me. I felt strangled by admitting the emotion that had been choking me all night, yet now I was hollow, the inside of my shell echoing with a single question: What now?

 

I whirled in place, facing the direction I'd come from. The scent of my family was difficult to distinguish in this part of the forest, that which lied closer to the town than the wilderness.

 

Could I go home now, knowing what I knew? Feeling what I felt? I didn't even know where to begin. I could not even imagine the conversation, the reactions, much less plan it all out tactfully.

 

My legs trudged in the opposite direction of home. Perhaps my body recognized I needed more time to think. Perhaps I was a coward after all. I was too shaken up to mind.

 

As my shoes maneuvered quietly onto gravel sidepaths, I contemplated rejecting my own feelings. Could I disengage from my sudden, unwarranted interest in Nicolae? After all, I barely knew the boy. It had been a week since our first encounter. This was merely a crush, which, as I had witnessed countless times, was usually defaced by getting to know the person. I was merely fascinated by an ideal of him, letting what little imagination I could allow to run rampant with ideas of him, his bulging muscles, his warm chest, his bright eyes and humo--

 

There it went again! I sighed in exasperation. But it was all the evidence I needed; I was enamored, for whatever reason, with his physicality and naivete. There was more to him that would surely shatter my feelings of him, and return me to my… perhaps “normal life” was an exaggeration. Nothing about my life was normal.

 

Feeling braver, I strode forward. I could get past this, and I would. Nicolae would be a friend, and nothing more. Comrades.

 

‘ _Why bother_ ?’ an incessant voice, the devil on my shoulder, whined. ‘ _Why care at all_?’

 

‘ _It's unnatural_.’ I bit back.

 

‘ _You're immortal_.’ The demon was blunt. He knew he had me there.

 

‘ _For my soul_ ,’ I insisted, feeling slimy with my reasoning.

 

‘ _You're already damned. You've lied, cheated, murdered…_ ’ The devil trailed off. It sounded as if it was smiling.

 

“I can't,” I spoke aloud, “I cannot _love_ _him_ , I can't do that to myself. To her.”

 

Fantastic. Now I was _talking_ to the voices in my head. My insanity had evolved.

 

‘Foolish,’ was all that my personal demon said, before slithering back into the depths of my mind. I grit my teeth and soldiered on--

 

And suddenly realized I had walked right onto the gravel in someone's backyard. The gravel path bended from the road and into a makeshift garden terrace.

 

Moon flowers, hundreds of them, smiled from an arrangement of more than a dozen low-lying terracotta pots. Above them, treated and raised with familiar care, were varying species of bonsai trees sitting atop stacked, smooth stones.

 

Some familiar scent coated the flowers, soothing me. At first, I couldn't place it. Or rather, I didn't care to. The scent, the garden, the serenity left me feeling whole again.

 

A lively snore sounded above, pulling me from my trance. It continued for half a beat, ended with a small snort, and then trailed off into a soft, unintelligible mumble, barely audible to even me.

 

If I had not already been paying attention, I wouldn't have caught it. A small, half-mumbled, half-spoken ‘ _Edward_ ’ that rocked me to my core.

 

Curiosity overwhelmed me. I climbed up an oak tree yards away from the house, nestled onto a branch adjacent from the window, and peered in.

 

I don't know what I expected.

 

Nicolae lay sprawled atop his bed, looking more like a carelessly thrown ragdoll than a sleeping young man. His hair was in wavy disarray against the pillow, yet clear from his face. The covers were loosely wrapped around his ankles, and had mostly fallen to the floor. His legs, which I had assumed to be entirely covered in fur, were actually only covered until the mid thigh. They were bulky, strong, and completely, utterly naked.

 

I nearly fell out of the tree. As I regained composure to the best of my ability, I had to make sure (for my own conscious’ sake) that I did not witness the boy entirely _naked_.

 

I snuck a second glance at his sleeping form, feeling more perverse by the second. No, he was not naked. A pair of boxers, a bit too tight on the legs, sat snug around his hips. Little smiling cartoon cats created a cute pattern across the front. I fought a smile, instead ducking as he emitted a low groan. He rolled onto his side, and I saw the contents within his boxers shift. My stomach shifted with them.

 

It would have been only right to drop down, to relinquish myself to my house and family, and to forget what I had seen. To scrub the contents of the night from my mind. To solidify my goal for the following week; expunging Nicolae from my heart and mind. It was only right. And it was my duty to commit to what was right.

 

My fingers worked their way around the window's latch.

 

Surely, no characteristic would turn me off of Nicolae than his sleeping habits. Nothing would better prove to me, and the devil as well, that this was just a regular, even raunchy young man, who snored and groaned and left his room in filthy condition. Just a boy with regular mortal habits, who did not belong in my world, nor I in his. With this shoddy reasoning, I silently swept into his room, landing on the balls of my feet. It was necessary, I chanted to myself. This was closure.

 

His room was, for a young man, rather neat. A few gym shorts lay around the hamper, tossed in its general direction and having clearly missed. Papers and stationery cluttered the desk. A wide selection of large dumbbells and cowbells were shoved into another corner, only a few placed on the intended rack. Yet that was as far as the mess went.

Stuffed animals and action figures were lovingly posed and placed in a series of shelves above the headboard of his bed. Books lay stored in a side table by his bed-- my eyes roamed the covers, but I found nothing disagreeable. All fantasy and fiction, a couple of books about dinosaurs and ancient marine animals, and a series of comic books I couldn't identify by their title-less binders.

 

A few posters were carefully aligned on the wall opposite of the window, all neatly framed in black. To the left were posters of Korean girl pop groups, which left me more fascinated than disgusted, as I'd hoped. Rather than being akin to pinups, or anything of the raunchy sort, they reflected the girls in album-art poses. A true aficionado of the girl-pop scene. I couldn't say I saw that coming. To the right, the posters were more along what I had expected, but far more artistic than I'd anticipated. They contained watercolor pieces referencing, what I could only imagine, to be the subjects from the comic books lined by his bed. My curiosity got the best of me, and I reached for one from the side table, flipping it to the cover.

 

 _‘The Amazing Thor’_ was splashed across the cover in bright, bold white letters. This time, I couldn't fight my smile. My interest piqued, and I examined the other titles.

 

He was a Marvel fan. In my newborn days, I, myself, had been more invested in the vigilante heroes from Detective Comics. But these seemed to fit right in with what I'd seen of his personality. Perhaps I could give them a read, instead.

 

I deposited the comic back amongst it's collection. No, I could not. Already I was letting myself get away with being interested in him, and his interests. _Look at him_ , I commanded myself, _see him as what he is_ ; _a man. Just a regular man_.

 

My gaze settled on his sleeping face. It was strangely intimate to stare at him, without his strange eyes distracting me the way they did… Now, while they were closed, I could examine his face better. Without feeling so exposed.

 

His skin was impeccably smooth. A single icepick scar on his cheek signalled past acne, but past that, his skin flourished. Freckles lined the bright spots of his cheeks, and, beside myself, I began counting them. I stopped at fifteen when he snorted in his sleep, tossing his face further into the pillow. He mumbled dreamily, his cheeks brightening with the hint of a smile. His wavy hair was tossed carelessly, yet framed his face like a cherub. My cold heart nearly imploded.

 

Was it ever possible for a man to be so endearing? Impossible. Unheard of. I couldn't parse my dismay from my growing interest. I couldn't even find his snores truly annoying-- they were so soft, yet a harsh reminder that he was a living, growing, learning individual. He would grow to live and learn and love, whilst I faded into the background of his life, a character frozen in time. And, though I couldn't admit it aloud, his occasional soft snorts were charming, in a strange way.

 

Mauve lips pouted against the plush of the pillow, and I sighed, watching them.

 

“Ed…” He mumbled, brow furrowing. His lips pouted into a frown. Distaste furrowed his features.

 

All life was sapped out of me. For the love of all, I could not will myself to move. I was a statue, frozen in place by this boy.

 

Then he laughed, ever so slightly, in his sleep, and nuzzled his face into the pillow.

 

“Ed… so cute,” he mumbled.

 

He thought I was _cute._  Me. He considered _me_ the cute one.

 

Not terrifying. Not deliriously, dangerously attractive. Not insidious nor handsome. _Cute._

 

 _“You're_ the cute one, you idiot.” I whispered. My eyes stung, and I had to wipe away at tears that would never form.

 

And just like that I was lost again. Lost in my feelings my thoughts, my emotions, my plans. They collapsed instantly, falling through the cracks of my fingers like grains of sand. The devil cackled in my head, hideously delighted, for he knew all too well my battle was lost before it had begun. This “crush” would truly own up to its moniker. It would weigh down and destroy me.

 

What was I to do?

 

He shivered into the bed, still smiling. Bumps prickled along his skin as the AC unit picked up. Disembodied, I picked the covers from around his ankles and laid the quilted blanket over him. He moaned softly, making the hair on my arms rise.

 

Did I deserve such a tempestuous sin? Could I fight it, and what would be the point in fighting against the current? Perhaps this was simply destiny. Fate for a monster like me. To love what I was not meant to, to yearn for what could and should never _be_. Yet what a sweet, charming muse I had been given. Was this a punishment, or a reward?

 

‘ _Clair de Lune_ ’ suddenly rang shrill over the quiescent night.

 

I jolted for the phone in my pocket-- I had forgotten about the damn thing throughout the night.

 

In a split moment, Nicolae was fully sitting up in his bed, and I, in a moment of panic, had packed myself into the only open vesicle I could spot: his closet. I cringed from the soft ‘crunch’ that echoed from my hand; the crushed remains of my cell phone showed Alice's number for a split second, before succumbing to their final darkness.

 

Rosalie would kill me. The family plan was last Christmas’ gift.

 

But I had bigger, far graver mistakes at hand now.

 

Peeking through the shroud of jackets, pants, and the wooden pleats of the closet door, I watched him. Nicolae whirled his head around, blinking blearily for the cause of his rude awakening. He rubbed his hair, leaving it in disarray. As if by magic, it stayed in the position he mussed it in.

 

His green eyes flashed to the window. Damn. In my rashness, I'd left it slightly ajar. Giving the bed a mighty creak, he lifted his huge form off the bed, closed the window, and then crashed back down onto the box-frame mattress. It squealed in protest.

 

If I thought I had been freed, I was sorely mistaken. After a few moments, he rolled over, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and proceeded to scroll through something. The blue light emanating from his phone framed his face in the darkness, and his blank, tired face was the sole thing I could focus on as I realized the irony of it all.

 

I was trapped in the closet.


	11. Ever Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which edward gets overwhelmed

I suppose I should have been thankful for the distinct lack of shoes and socks that Nicolae had. His closet was mostly filled with pants and shirts, all clean and rich with his scent, enough to make my head buzz.

 

Surrounded by his clothes, it was easy to see his preference leaned toward three things; exercise-ready clothes, such as gym shorts and muscle-shirts, and then the varsity jackets he was so keen on wearing. I could only imagine the despair Alice would feel upon seeing his wardrobe. Not a single formal outfit in sight. But the stuffiness of a dress shirt just didn't suit him.

 

"Mmf." Nicolae grumbled across the room.

 

My attention was stolen by him again as he wrestled the sheets off his legs and down to his ankles. A pang of hurt nudged my heart, though how was he to know I'd pulled up the covers for him? Still, it hurt, in a petulant sort of way.

 

With him distracted by his phone, and with no sign of me being able to exit anytime soon, I relinquished myself to mapping out his closet. I peered to my side, and was shocked-- dozens, maybe _hundreds_ of canvas paintings were stacked atop each other, shoved into the closet like they were raunchy magazines. Only a few were turned over. Landscape watercolor paintings, by the looks of them, and fairly photorealistic. Foggy grays splattered with greens or reds. Each branch was painted as delicately as glass, as lovingly as a fine silk. In eggshell blue, with a touch of emerald green, he had even painted the Sol Duc river winding through the forests. Small brown deer lapped at its tranquil surface. A love for this land he called home was evident in each and every one. His name was signed into each corner, the ‘i’ of Nicolae dotted with a heart.

 

My eyes pricked again. I rubbed them gingerly, turning my head.

 

So, he loved to paint. But why would he keep such lovely creations hidden in a closet?

 

‘ _Why don't you play the piano, anymore, Edward?_ ’ Esme chimed in a recent memory of mine. Perhaps I shouldn't be one to judge.

 

Actually, now that I had noticed beyond the paintings, it seems like he had crammed nearly every sort of knick knack and hobby product in here hastily. Half-knitted scarves, a few felted figurines, and then dozens and dozens of stuffed animals. A lazy attempt at spring cleaning? The clutter seemed far too forced-- it _had_ to be some failed attempt at cleaning.

 

A lovingly knitted double XL sweater, with a decal of a sleeping kitten, stared at me from the pile. Red stitching in the corner embroidered a signature: _Wooly_.

 

With a start, as I turned into face up, where the sweaters and jackets shrouded my face, I realized that they had _all_ been hand made. Every jacket he'd worn this week had that signature sewn onto the collar, or below the pocket. That explained why the sleeves of his varsity jackets were made of such an _odd_ material-- cable knit cotton. Alice had taken a liking to his “daring” taste, while I had foolishly called it foppish. But no, the behemoth of a boy _crocheted._ He custom-made those oversized jackets himself. Was he self-taught, or was this a skill from his siter? Perhaps his father?

 

The more I learned of him, the more I found myself enamored. What a juxtaposition of traits, of talents! His years alone at home must have fostered a series of hobbies to fend off boredom. Not unlike myself, I admitted. Though his talent, his unabashed love, was for his music. There was no doubt-- by his bedside lay his guitar case, not shoved up inside the closet like a rejected toy.

 

Did he play alone, here in his room? I longed to hear what he played when he thought no one was subject to listen. I felt that strange pull to shiver again, remembering how he played in the classroom that second day I'd known him...

 

Nicolae yawned. My legs tensed in preparedness; my time to escape was dawning.

 

Yet instead of succumbing to sleep, his hand rummaged below his bed for something; a bottle of lotion. He set it aside on the nightstand. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why would he keep such a thing below his bed? And why would he need it now?

 

With one hand holding his phone, he used the other to slide one thumb past the elastic of his briefs. He got the thick of its wedged off, revealing a thick line of dark hair that led down into the depths of his underwear. Forcing his back to arch off the bed, he wrestled the briefs downwar--

 

And that was enough. God was, evidently, trying to kill me. I would be the first immortal to burn to death from secondhand embarrassment and shame. At least there was no doubt, now, that the almighty Himself had no love left for me. I would perish in Nicolae's closet this night.

 

The boy groaned under his breath, his eyes losing focus from the screen of his phone as they rolled upwards, ever so slightly. His hips rolled up again. I wanted, **begged** my eyes to turn away, but they couldn't. I knew what I had to do. I would regret it, but it was better than letting myself witness... _This_.

 

The expanse of skin leading towards his pelvis was revealed more every second, so I kept my eyes focused on the door to his room. It felt downright wrong to leave evidence of my presence, but I had no choice. I easily knocked off a a few pieces of the wooden closet door with a pinch of my fingers. My ammo.

 

Right as he had a chance to “free himself", I assaulted the door in a rapid fire of the wooden plicks, imitating the sound of a knock.

 

Nicolae spasmed. His hand yanked his briefs back up-- even higher than before, outlining his member. He dropped his phone under his pillow, flipped onto his side, his back to the door, and crushed his eyes closed. Ever the actor, he even feigned a rather convincing light snore.

 

God bless embarrassment. My last defense.

 

I darted out of the closet fast enough for papers on his desk to rustle, and was at the door before he could peek. Shit. I had dented the front of it with the chunks of wood.

 

Hopefully it wouldn't rouse too much suspicion in the morning. The door creaked upon opening, and I played it up. A parent checking in on their child. Nicolae maintained his faux snoring, and, pretending to be satisfied, I shut the door behind me.

 

His house passed by me in a singular blur. My mind couldn't focus on a single thing besides the exit, and the glimpses of skin I had managed to spectate through the cracks of the closet door. Like a jammed projector, spitting the same image of his thick, dark hair and toned pelvis and the skin around his navel as it stretched over his abdominals… Over and over, a sea of Nicolae permeated my mind.

 

I had just enough sense left in me not to slam the front door on my way out. I whirled back down the path past the garden, over the gravel road, and back into the forest. My ears buzzed angrily, and I realized that, with no reasonable need to, I was panting. Shaken.  _Yearning_.

 

‘ _Let go. It's fine. You're fine. Calm down_.’ The voice within me sounded less devilish now. More hopeful. Earnest, even.

 

“Give me a minute,” I wheezed. The light bark of a young spruce held me dutifully as I leaned against it. “I need a minute. Just a minute.”

 

Wrong. I needed a millenia to parse through this library of emotions. Never had I _felt,_ purely and simply felt, so feverishly in my immortal life. I raked my hands through my hair, then shuddered at the memory of _his_ hands, warm and rough and gentle, toying with the auburn ends.

 

“Alright, alright. Enough.” My voice was barely a whisper. Afraid to speak any louder, it was all I could manage.

 

“I get it. I understand. I want him." It all came out as a single, shaky breath. I shuddered. Because the words rang true.

 

‘ _Describe what you're feeling_ .’ It was no demon now. Alice's voice, a memory of her recent “therapy" session with me, rang clear in my head  ‘ _In three words, no more, try to exclaim how you feel. If you tackle your feelings in bite-sizes, you can back up to see the big picture._ ’

 

I'd regarded it as quack, neo-psychology at the time, but perhaps there was more wisdom to the method than I'd granted her. If she wanted bite sized, so be it. Three words. Bigger picture.

 

“I'm gay.” I muttered, snatching the young spruce and ripping it from the ground, then chucking it with undue force into the forest. It soared for a good distance before obliterating itself against the trunk of an adult everest. I stood by the spot where it once stood, staring holes into the freshly exposed dirt and roots.

 

“I'm gay. I'm _gay_. _I'm gay_.” The words trickled out of me, little whispers filled with shock. I'd turned the faucet loose, yet instead of a flood, the feelings poured through drip by drip. Building into an imposing mantra. Something I knew, some revelation I'd been on the fringes on, that was a potential joke in the minds of my siblings.

 

I hadn't heard him. I'd been too engrossed in my own mental breakdown. So it was no wonder I jumped a good foot in the air when I heard him bark a laugh behind me.

 

“Finally, he _admits_ it!” Emmett guffawed, holding onto the leftover chunk of spruce tree, and planting it firmly into the ground. My jaw fell open; my eyes bugged. Emmett only laughed harder at my shock. Astounding. He had heard it all, and all he could do was laugh. My mind was still frozen on the fact that _he'd heard._

 

Everything in me froze. My thoughts, my limbs, my breath. I stared forward vacantly as Emmett came into view around me. His expression was jovial, but his eyebrows furrowed. I could see me in the reflection of his eyes; I looked like death.

 

“Edward? You good, man?”

 

His hand trailed in my vision as it snapped forward in front of me, and then the _oddest_ sensation occurred in my vision, and my chest. It was as if both were being strangled. Good. Hopefully, God was having mercy on me, and killing me instantly.

 

Then, something even stranger occurred. A blessing, perhaps.

 

I blacked out.

 


	12. Requiem for a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which nicolae has a good, but awkward, morning, feat. Gabe the gay mailman!

Thin piano fingers tangled themselves in my hair and massaged the roots of my horns. At first I laughed, but before I knew it I was melting into a low groan, nuzzling those pale, avid hands.They rewarded me with long strokes across my head, down the nape of my neck, and across my shoulders. A nice, almost tickling sensation. It was bliss.

 

The sunlight floated in through the blinds, hues of orange and red that I could barely see under the covers. They bathed the boy across from me in a golden light, as he moved deeper under the covers to join me.

 

An angel. A redheaded angel.

 

His red hair was mahogany under the shade of the blankets. I could stare at it all day. I just might have. Instead, I traded of the view for his smile. I wanted, very much, to lick his perfect, perfect teeth. To nibble that lower lip that made his whole grin crooked. It was too pretty of a smile.

 

“You're beautiful.” I whispered. The words didn't leave my mouth, but floated lazily from my mind to the air. He somehow heard me, though, since he chuckled under his breath. The way his lips pursed over his teeth made me feel suddenly very, very hot. Hot and fuzzy. Maybe it was all the blankets. Or the orange sun. Or his red, red hair.

 

I leaned towards him, and like a mirror image, he did the same. Lips parted, breath slow. I could smell him, then, in that tiny little moment. He smelled like the sunshine that leaked inbetween the sheets, and like Sunday morning. Clean. Fresh. Good.

 

My vision started to shimmer around the edges, like a mirage, as he drew closer.

 

“Kiss me.” I begged. Maybe he'd get on with it. My heart started to palpitate, suddenly picking up speed, and I could see darkness growing in the corners of my vision. Like the vignette of a photo. I tried to focus on his face. Tried not to lose him.

 

Two gold eyes, a smear of red, and a perfect smile.

 

“No, that'd be wrong,” the boy laughed.

 

His amber eyes burned away like a sheet of film.

  
***  


The first thing I noticed when I woke up was just how _sweaty_ my bed was. For a split second I was afraid I'd somehow pissed myself. Rolling myself out of the gross, cool puddle of fluids on onto the heap of blankets on the floor, I gave myself a moment to come to terms with whatever the heck that dream was supposed to be.

 

I could already feel most of the beginning leaving my brain. But the beginning wasn't what made me cringe the most. It was that stupid ending.

 

‘ _Do you like him?’_

 

 _Did_ I? Aurora seemed doubtful with my answer last night, but I was sure-- actually, now, in the light of day and sobriety, I wasn't. I _wasn't_ sure.

 

It felt weird, gross even, to dream so… sensually about a friend. A friend I'd had for a week. But Edward was just… so sweet and gentle and handsome and--

 

I gasped. My heart squeezed in my chest; it thumped there unevenly as I remembered how I felt, in the dream, as he inched closer to me. The details were faded, but his lips, with his little cupids bow, were crystal clear. I traced my fingers over mine, and tried not to imagine how soft they'd feel.

 

Did I like him? Maybe. Maybe it was a friend crush. Maybe no one was ever so nice to me, and maybe I just… didn't know the difference between friendship and flirting? It sure felt like it. I'd read others having the issue before, online, but never thought it'd happen to _me_.

 

The sunlight was a harsh beam of yellow. I let the blankets swallow me whole. It was always easier to think stuff out in the dark warmth.

 

I liked him. Even if it was just temporary, and just a friend crush, and even if I knew it was just a friend crush… He was still just so _cute_. But he was my friend. My straight friend. My cute straight friend Edward. I could live with that. I could live with having a cute, twink-ish friend who wouldn't ever like me that way. It was fine. Things like this happened all the time, even.

 

My tail threatened to break itself, it was thumping so hard. Of course this would happen to _me_ . But I couldn't let myself be knocked down by it. I wasn't about to start my first fucking year of school _ever_ crushing on my semi-homophobic, crazy hot new friend.

 

‘ _Fake it till you make it, Nico._ ’

 

I'd get over it. I just needed to remind myself that he was just a friend. A friend with a shoulder to lean on. Maybe, one day, even a best friend. And we'd laugh about the idea of a stupid crush that I made when I didn't know better.

 

And maybe I could lie in my blankets forever and swaddle my feelings. Except for the smell of eggs and turkey bacon that wafted through the door.

 

  
***

 

Dad smiled over a big pan of scrambled eggs. Had he a tail, like me, it'd sway behind him. _Mine_ was, nearly tripping Aurora as she circled the table with her plate of food.

 

“You're _never_ down here this early. What's got you up?” Dad asked sarcastically. Like it was even a question. I smacked my lips around the turkey bacon in response, and he laughed.

 

“Did you two have fun at the study session last night? Sure stayed out late.” His tone was a bit harder now. Probing, almost.

 

“Nicolae was getting distracted a lot, but the Cullens are actually really fun. You know the redheaded albino lookin’ one? He's _hysterical_.” Aurora snickered, and, remembering what she'd called him last night, I briefly choked on my bacon. Dad slapped it out of me with a wide palm to my back.

 

“Nico, I hear the mail coming in, can you go grab it for Gabriel? Hate to make him walk through the gate.”

 

I immediately perked up; both at seeing Gabriel, and at not having to deal with Aurora’s poorly veiled references to my dumbass shenanigans last night. I knew she could sense my attitude; she stuck her tongue at me and rolled her eyes as I left.

 

I unlatched the white picket gate, waiting around the corner for the USPS truck to come to a stop. Gabe hopped out the side, his long blonde hair bobbing in an overly messy bun that sat right on top of his head.

 

“Nico!” he beamed, balancing a bunch of brown boxes in one arm, “You've got some packages!”

 

“Me? Really?”

 

“Name on one of these is addressed to you. An early birthday gift, maybe?” He handed me the boxes, listing to the side on his uninjured leg. I pretended not to notice as I wrote my signature on his penpad.

 

“That'd be three months early, but I'll take it.” I passed him the pad, and he hobbled back to the truck. My heart sunk a little, seeing the amazon boxes teeming from within. He caught my face and ears fall, and his elven ones perked right up.

 

“Busy season, as usual. Fall and winter always are!”

 

“How's your husband doing? How's Mr. Swan?”

 

There was an unsaid question I left in the space between his answer, but, old and keen, Gabe picked up on it.

 

“Charlie’s doing fine. Worried. But _I'm_ fine, and so he's fine. We always are.” His smile wasn't as bright as before, but it was warm. He got that way whenever he talked about Charlie. Gabe's eyes crinkled in the corners, and his sharp elf features were suddenly softer to look at. It made me feel like a little kid, somehow. I was eons beyond understanding a love like that. My little crush on Edward felt meager and dumb in comparison.

 

The engine snorted awake, and Gabe nodded a goodbye at me. “Busy day, busy day.Take care Nicolae, tell your folks I said hello!”

 

I watched him go until the truck was just a little dot down the road. Maybe it was in vain-- after all, I wasn't as _pretty_ as an elf-- but I couldn't help but want a life like his when I got older. With more fossil-hunting and gym visits, though. And maybe a husband who was a cute barista instead of an old police chief. Again, maybe it was a bit vain.

 

Our house smelled like eggs when I walked back in, which made my stomach rumble the second time that morning.

 

“Aury, you make me an omelette and I'll let you have whatever you ordered off amazon.”

 

She sneered, then smacked my right moob, aiming for a titty twister.

 

“How about _you_ stop being lazy AND give me my package? Win-win.”

 

“Fine, fine! This one's mine, though.”

 

Both Dad and aury were interested now-- Unless it was my birthday or Christmas, I never got stuff in the mail. Not that I had any relatives outside the home that would send me stuff anyway. My tail swished behind me as I loaded the rectangular gift, about the size of a cereal box, onto the table.

 

Aury and Dad packed in close behind me, enough that they were practically against my back. I pried the box open with a pen and my claws-- and gasped.

 

“You didn't!”

 

“We did!”

 

“You _didn't!”_ I whispered; I was breathless.

 

“It was your sister's idea,” my dad said proudly, squeezing my shoulder. “I got same-day shipping as soon as I heard the news.”

 

“What news?” I felt my heart skip a beat.

 

Dad chuckled, pulling one of the chairs forward so he could sit next to me.

 

“While you were out studying, I got a call last night. Didn't even know you tried out for it-- You made the basketball team.”

 

With tears in my eyes, already overflowing and stinging down my cheeks, I lifted the yellow and navy jersey from the box. _Spartans_ covered the front, with a little Spartan helmet next to the word. _Wooly_ was printed in bold white on the back, over the number 13.

 

I just barely managed to muffle a sob with my hand. Both Aurora and Dad hugged my shoulders, and I leaned into their embrace, wrapping my arms around them and pulling them in deeper while I let the tears roll free.

 

“Save those tears for your wedding day, boy, you don't need to cry over a jersey!” Dad chuckled, patting my back.

 

“Maybe shoulda put _Crybaby_ instead of Wooly.” Aurora reached her free arm to wipe off a fat tear, which was quickly replaced. I hiccuped a laugh.

 

“T-t-this is the-the _nicest_ , _bestest_ thing y'all c-coulda ever done for me.” All I could do was stutter past my sobs; I felt like an idiot while they rubbed my back. The tank glittered like new found gold in my hands, now with flecks of dark yellow. Tear stains, I realized with a snort.

 

“Go try it in before you ruin it, snotty!” Aury ushered me to my room with both hands. I was about to snap at her when I realized she was eight-- wet, clear dribbles of snot were running down my nose alongside my tears.

 

“Ugh!” Clutching my jersey, I hauled my sniveling ass to my room.

  
***

 

It was a perfect fit. Almost baggy, even. I swiveled to face the door-- closed. Perfect. I turned back to the long floor-length mirror and, knowing I was alone, flexed. The shirt pulled tight around my pecs, and my back dorsi pushed out from underneath the sleeve breaks. To say I wasn't proud of my development would be a baldheaded lie. I was a teensy, eeny little bit proud. I flexed again, posing as if I was going for a dunk. The shirt rode up somewhat, sized for width but not height. I nervously pulled at it, but I was apparently destined to flash my hips and belly to people when I dunked. _If_ I dunked.

 

A small, hint of a thought touched my mind. _What if Edward came to the games_ ? Would he admire my body? Would he think I looked cut and fit? Would, in spite of everything, he think of me as...   _pretty_? Even in a not gay way. I wouldn't ask for much.

 

My mind rolled with the suggestion, and I pictured his red hair and strange eyes watching me play with an excited expression. Maybe even a _sultry_ expression. His face started to mangle and morph in my head as I tried to picture him with a seductive expression; I couldn't. As well I wouldn't. This mornings embarrassment flooded back in, and I could feel my face and ears overheat.

 

“Wooly, you gonna come out and show us or what?” Aury rapped her hand on the door three times-- just like last nights knock. Was that _her_ that'd been at the door?

 

I snapped my arms back down. Would've been a shame to show their present didn't quite fit all the way.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!”

 

As I pulled open the door, three sharp dents in the white wood whizzed past my eyes; I puzzled over them for a moment, but not before Aury caught my shoulders and hugged me tight.


End file.
